


Words Cut Deeper Than Swords

by aseriesofbadlifechoices



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseriesofbadlifechoices/pseuds/aseriesofbadlifechoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard nearly kills Derek, but Stiles is there to save the day. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happens somewhere near the end of Season 2. Peter is back to life and Gerard still has homicidal rage towards all werewolves. Special thanks to puppetmasterc for being the best Beta ever and making my horrible writing readable.

Stiles' feet slid out from under him as his sneakers slipped through the damp leaves on the forest floor. He threw both arms out in an effort to stop himself from face planting; his right arm collided with a tree, slowing his fall. He ended up falling to his knees half hugging the tree. Wincing, he pulled himself back up and inspected the inside of his arm. There were a number of scratches already blossoming bright red with blood from dragging his arm across tree bark.

He put his hands on his knees, breathed deeply, sides still burning; silently thankful for Coach Finstock's love of suicide runs. At least lacrosse practice had prepared him for the increasing number of times he found himself running away from whatever dangerous predicament Scott dragged him into.

Just as he was about to continue his sprint off through the trees, he heard the staccato pops of gunfire in the distance. He froze. _Scott. Please let Scott be okay,_ he desperately thought. Not that he exactly wanted any of Derek's pack to be killed. Okay, maybe he hoped, just a little, that one of the hunters would get Peter. Stiles never felt quite right when Peter was around, and there was no telling what was going on in that head behind dead eyes and a mocking smile.

_Okay, I can't just sit here._ He couldn't be too far from his jeep by now. When all hell had broken loose Derek had growled at him, “Get your ass to the jeep and don't even so much as think about turning back.” For once he had to agree with Derek. Stiles didn't have awesome supernatural werewolf powers, and there was no way in hell he wanted to stick around and deal with Gerard and his friends. Stiles already got a taste of that and he would prefer to let the ones with supernatural healing be the punching bags for once.

Stiles looked off in the direction of where his jeep was waiting. He heard a howl off in the other direction. A howl he hoped wasn't Scott's.

"Shit." _Well, I was never good with following directions anyway._ He started jogging back the way he came.

He had barely made it a few feet before he heard something rustling in the leaves followed by a loud snapping sound. He tripped and found himself with his face pressed into another tree, wishing he could will his heart to beat more quietly. Taking a deep breath, he peered ever so slightly around the tree. Derek was there, in the middle of a small clearing, hanging by his hands, which were trapped in a tight loop of steel cable. A grin crept across Stiles’ face, his mind already trying to come up with a good caught dog joke for the situation. Before he could even move to help Derek, two men stepped out of the shadows into the small clearing.

Stiles’ heart leapt into his throat as he pressed himself back into the tree, trying not to make a sound. It wasn’t just any hunter that had appeared. It was Gerard Argent. He didn’t get a good look at the other hunter; that didn’t matter, though. What did matter was what the other hunter had been carrying. He had a long thin wooden box in his arms, and Stiles had a pretty good idea of what was in that box.

It had only been a few weeks ago when Scott swung through his bedroom window at two in the morning, looking paler than a corpse. Stiles hadn’t been asleep--not that night. It was the second night Lydia had been missing from the hospital, and Stiles couldn’t think about sleep when his brain couldn’t stop creating one horrible scenario after the other about what happened to her.

Stiles sat in his bed silently staring while Scott struggled to find the right words. He explained to Stiles that Gerard had caught an omega in the woods. That he cut the man clean in half with a gigantic sword. A sword! As if the Argents hadn’t been terrifying enough before. Who the hell carried around a sword in the 21st century? Stiles didn’t know whether he should be relieved that it wasn’t Lydia running around eating livers, or even more worried now that he knew what the Argents most likely had in store for her.

Stiles could hear Gerard talking to Derek, but his mind wasn’t paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth; Stiles’ mind was focused on the gleaming four feet of steel Gerard was pulling from his partner’s wooden box. Cold chills ran down the base of his spine. He’d never been very fond of Derek, but that didn’t mean the guy deserved to be chopped in half by a geriatric psychopath.

He began to work his way around the edge of the clearing, silently darting from tree to tree, thankful for the fact that Gerard couldn’t help but give an entire victory speech for catching the alpha wolf so easily. As he got closer, Gerard’s words became clearer. He was interrogating him.

“Derek,” he drawled, “I’ll find them eventually. Let’s not drag this out.”

Derek glared back, jaw clenched tightly, not making a sound.

“My men have been watching you and your pathetic teenage pack. We know there are at least four more wolves. Tell me their names.”

“You’ll kill me anyway,” Derek spat back. “Why should I?”

“You killed my daughter,” he growled back. “Why would I show you any mercy?”

“I didn’t kill her. Peter did. If revenge on Kate’s killer is what you’re looking for, then you’ve got the wrong person.”

Gerard cackled. It chilled Stiles to his core. That definitely wasn’t the laugh of someone who was going to be making rational decisions any time soon. Stiles moved faster, knowing his time--Derek’s time--was getting shorter.

“You’re all the same. You. Peter. All of your pack. I don’t care which wolf did it. You’re all responsible. Do you even know how to think for yourselves? If he hadn’t done it, one of you would have, eventually. That’s what you do isn’t it? Run free, like rabid dogs, on the full moon, ripping apart anyone that gets near you.”

“We’re not rabid.” Derek gritted out. “The wolf can be controlled. Those in my pack who haven’t learned that yet are kept restrained on the full moon. None of them have hurt anyone. I thought your family had a code? Or is it just that you enjoy murdering teenagers that much these days?”

“I’d hardly call them innocent. We both know it’s only a matter of time before they start tearing this town apart. I’m merely taking preventative measures. And it’s not so much that I enjoy murdering teenagers; it’s more that I’d like to finish the work my daughter started.”

Stiles was now directly behind Gerard and the other hunter. He saw Gerard tighten his grip on the sword and knew time was up. He had to do something now or it wouldn’t just be Derek that would die. It wouldn’t take long for Gerard to come find the rest of the pack. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, even Scott. Gerard wouldn’t care that Scott wasn’t part of Derek’s pack. Scott was a werewolf, and Stiles wasn’t going to let that be a death sentence for him.

He darted forward, no longer attempting to be quiet. Before the hunter in front of him could even turn around Stiles grasped at the gun tucked into the hunter’s waistband. He raised his arm and brought the butt of the gun down into the man’s temple as he turned to face Stiles. 

Stiles kept moving. His fingers fumbled for the gun’s safety as he saw the moonlight reflecting off the blade moving through the air. As soon as the safety clicked off, Stiles fired. Gerard jerked forward, still trying to slice through Derek. Gerard fell forward, but Stiles had not been in time to stop the blade’s motion. The blade gouged deep into Derek’s side as Gerard collapsed at his feet.

Stiles hurriedly shoved the gun into the back of his jeans. He couldn’t think. His brain just screamed no over and over again. He was too late. He should have acted a moment sooner. The sword hadn’t sliced Derek in half, but it looked as if it had sliced through his side halfway to his spine. How much was too much for a werewolf to come back from? 

He sprinted to the tree where the cable was hooked. His hands fumble at the clips, but they shake too hard for him to undo them. Stiles jogged back to Derek. He hesitated, then picked up the blood streaked sword. He brought it back to the tree, raised it up above his head and swung it down at the cable as hard as his aching arms could manage. The cable snapped and Stiles winced as Derek’s body thudded as it hit the ground.

The sword clattered to the ground, falling from his shaking hands, and he raced back to kneel next to Derek. Stiles’ hands paused above his body, unsure of how to help. He slowly peeled Derek’s shirt away from the wound. He clamped his mouth shut and tried not to gag at the bloody mess that is Derek’s side. He’s not sure but it looks like the wound is still bleeding. _That’s a good thing, right? If there’s still blood coming out then that means his heart is probably still beating._ Hell, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Scott would know. He may be an idiot in school, but at least he’s learned some useful things from Deaton.

In that moment, Stiles realized that the forest had fallen silent again. The roars and growls of the pack are gone, as are the yells of the rest of the hunters. Stiles really hoped that meant Scott is okay. He patted himself down searching for his phone. He didn’t know how to handle this on his own. As much as Scott hated Derek, it’s not the first time he would have helped save his life.

Stiles squeezed his eyes closed in frustration as his hands came up empty. He remembered where his phone was: in the pocket of his hoodie. His hoodie which was ripped off as one of the hunters tried to catch him. He was on his own and realized he needed to get Derek out of there now. That hunter wasn’t going to stay unconscious forever and he was pretty sure Gerard wasn’t dead from a shoulder wound either. At least he had knocked out two hunters. He was totally going to bring that up next time they tried to keep Stiles from helping, but now was not the time for bragging.

He whipped his shirt off, ripping it partly in half to make a long strip of fabric. He tied it as tightly as he could around Derek’s stomach, hoping it would help stop the bleeding. Stiles hooked his arms under Derek’s armpits and began to drag him in what he hoped was the direction of his jeep.

It took him thirty minutes to haul Derek across the forest. It didn’t help that Stiles nearly dropped him out of fright every time he heard the snap of a branch or the rustle of leaves. He propped Derek up against the side of his jeep while he caught his breath. He had no idea how he was going to lift Derek into his jeep. He was already exhausted from dragging him here and he didn’t want to somehow make the gaping hole in Derek’s side any worse than it already was. 

It took him at least another fifteen minutes to wrestle Derek’s body into the passenger seat. He leapt into the driver’s seat and jammed his key into the ignition. _Shit. Where the fuck am I supposed to take him now?_ He vividly remembered the last time he was driving around a dying Derek Hale. Derek had threatened to rip his throat out with his teeth when Stiles tried to take him home. So where was safe enough for Derek now? He couldn’t take him back to the train depot, not without knowing the pack would be there to protect him. He wasn’t even sure that the hunters didn’t already know about the place either. Deaton’s? Ah, but he had no phone. He couldn’t call Deaton. And he wasn’t going to leave Derek alone at the clinic over the weekend.

“I’m taking you home, aren’t I?” 

Stiles sighed and turned the key, bringing the engine to life. At least his dad would be at work all night.

Getting Derek out of the jeep and up the stairs turned out to be a million times worse than dragging him through the forest. Eventually Stiles got him into the bathroom. Propping him up against the bathtub, he stared nervously at what had been his t-shirt. He untied it and slowly lifted it away from Derek’s side, afraid of what it would look like. 

To his surprise, the wound looked slightly better. It seemed more shallow than it had been earlier and he thinks there’s less blood seeping out now. Stiles pressed his fingers into the side of Derek’s neck. He moved them around a bit searching for some sign of a heart beat. There was a flicker of something, but he couldn’t seem to feel a steady rhythm. At least Derek felt warmer, and less corpse like. Although, that could be due to the fact that Stiles had cranked the heat up in his jeep because he had sacrificed both his t-shirt and his hoodie that night.

Stiles stripped off Derek’s torn leather jacket and the remains of his shirt and tossed them into the bathtub. He’d deal with the mess later. His eyes swept down Derek’s naked torso. God, even covered in mud and gore he looked like he could be in a magazine shoot. He started gently at first, but when it became clearer that he wasn’t going to hurt Derek, he started scrubbing harder at the drying mud and blood that caked Derek’s torso. 

Then he dragged out the well stocked first aid kit his dad kept in the closet. Stiles rummaged through the metal tin, not sure of what he needed. It’s not like the guy needed stitches, right? Maybe just something to keep Derek from dripping more blood all over the house. He taped some gauze over the wound and leaned back on his heels to inspect his handiwork. His eyes flicked from his clean chest down to the disgusting mess that was now Derek’s jeans. He didn’t want those jeans in his bed. Gross. Stiles reached for the button of Derek’s jeans, but paused halfway there, imagining the death glare Derek would give him when he woke up. _You know what? I think we’re going to skip the awkward morning after talk. My sheets could probably use a washing anyway._

Once Stiles got Derek down the hall and into his bed, he probed his neck again searching for his pulse. He’s not sure, but he thought he could feel something this time. He really hoped that he wasn’t imagining Derek getting better. Explaining the bloody corpse of an ex-murder suspect to the Sheriff was not something he wants to experience. Ever.

His eyelids felt like lead and he’d love nothing more to collapse in bed and sleep for a year. Sadly, his bed had a 200 pound werewolf in it, and there was still a lot of blood that needed cleaning up. He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. 

Stiles spent the next half hour sleepily scrubbing blood from the hardwood floors. He tossed the bloody rags and what was left of Derek’s clothes in a trash bag and took it outside. When he came back in he stared sleepily at the kitchen clock reading three in the morning. His dad would be home in a few more hours. He was going to have to figure out some way to hide Derek. 

He shuffled tiredly back upstairs to his room, shutting the door gently behind him. Stiles leaned over Derek once more, searching for signs of life. He gently rested his palm on Derek’s chest. A faint thudding reached his fingertips and he could feel the subtle movements of his chest rising and falling. A relieved sigh escaped his lungs. Derek wasn’t dead. Stiles just hoped he would be able to say the same about the rest of the pack.

Stiles flopped back into his desk chair, intently watching the barely visible movements of Derek’s chest. His eyelids slowly creeped downwards as he tried to stifle one yawn after another. Eventually, his head lolled off to one side and his eyes would no longer stay open. Stiles stopped fighting it and let himself drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek’s eyes snapped wide open. The first thing he noticed was the burning pain flaring out from his side. He tried to sit up, but an overwhelming wave of nausea made him fall back against the pillows. His fingers reached for the spot that hurt the most. They met tape and gauze instead of flesh. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. _Where the hell am I?_

He took deep, slow breaths, trying to draw his focus back to his senses and away from the throbbing pain. The first thing he noticed was the soft thud of another heartbeat. The next thing he noticed, as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, was a cartoon snowboarder peering down at him from the wall. _Why am I in Stiles’ bedroom?_

He tried sitting up again, this time slower. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth and his fingers dug into the blankets as he slowly shifted himself upwards. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall, trying to focus on breathing and not throwing up. After a few minutes had passed the pain felt bearable again and he cracked his eyes back open. His eyes met the bright blue numbers of Stiles’ alarm clock, telling him it was 4:35 in the morning. His gaze roamed the room, until finally settling on the silhouette at the foot of the bed.

He sat there, in Stiles’ bed, wracking his brain trying to remember something, anything about what had happened to them. He vaguely remembered meeting the pack along with Scott and Stiles out at his house at the start of the night. The Argents had been up to something. Derek had found their scents recently in the areas surrounding the Hale house. 

He had been sure that the Argents knew he was no longer living there after what happened with Peter and Kate. He had needed something bigger and more private for himself and his growing pack. So if the Argents weren’t looking for him they were planning something else and Derek had intended to find out.

The memories began to slowly trickle back. They hadn’t expected to meet so many hunters in the forest that night; hadn’t expected so many hunters to be patiently waiting, armed to the teeth, for six werewolves and one human. He remembered yelling for Stiles to run when the arrows started to fly. He should have never let him come with them. Derek remembered somehow getting split off from the rest of the pack. He hadn’t been sure where he was going, but he remembered being jerked away from the ground in one of Gerard’s snares. Of course Gerard would be the one to catch him off guard. Then he recalled the sword. The sword he had last seen glinting in the moonlight as it arced towards his torso. _So why am I not dead,_ he silently wondered as his eyes met the slumped shadow near his feet.

Derek shut everything out and listened closely to the sounds around him. Stiles’ heartbeat was the only sound he could hear in the vicinity of the house. He figured the sheriff must still be at work, meaning, for now, it was safe for him to leave the room. 

It took him a few minutes, but he managed to slowly make his way out of Stiles’ room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. His nostrils flared at the strong scent of bleach emanating from every surface. He groped at the wall until his fingers found the light switch and winced as the bright fluorescent lights momentarily blinded his eyes.

The face that stared back at him was pale and tired. He realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore, but he still had on his jeans, which were now a dark shade of brown due to a combination of dirt and a rather large amount of his own blood. He dug his fingernails under the tape and slowly peeled the bloody gauze away from his side and tossed it into the tiny trash bin next to the sink. The only evidence that still remained of his injury was a bright red raised line where he had been cut. His fingers gently traced it. It still felt warm to the touch.

Derek gripped the sides of the sink and let out a deep breath. What was he doing? Peter was right to mock him. A pack of emotionally unstable teenagers? He had needed a pack so badly, though. It wasn’t just for the power--it never really had been. He had never been alone before. Even after the fire there had been Laura, but then there was no one left. No one left who would ever understand. 

So he made himself a pack out of other lonely people. Too bad even they didn’t want to stay. If anything, Derek felt more alone than ever now. He was going to get a handful of stupid teenagers killed because he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of being alone for all of eternity. 

Derek turned the water on and cupped his hands under the icy flow. He leaned down and splashed water over his face until it was numb. His hands groped for the towel he had seen hanging next to the mirror while he hung his dripping face downward over the sink. He couldn’t look at himself any longer.

He pressed his face into the soft towel longer than he needed to before hobbling quietly back down the dark hallway. Derek paused in the doorway of Stiles’ bedroom. The clock on the bedside table told him it was now 5:44. The sun was beginning to rise and the soft morning light was filtering through the window on the far side of the room. He could see Stiles better now in the dim light. He was no longer just a lumpy looking shadow across the room.

Stiles was slumped in his desk chair, one arm loosely hugging his stomach while the other one rested on top of a pile of papers on his desk. His legs were spread out in front of him and his head lolled backwards over the edge of the chair. In the growing light, Derek could see how terrible Stiles looked. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and Derek could see cuts and scratches littering his arms among a myriad of bruises. 

Derek’s stomach knotted when he realized why Stiles’ chest looked off. That wasn’t mud. That was a hell of a lot of dried blood. Jesus, why hadn’t he thought to check on Stiles sooner? The only sound Derek could hear, as he dropped to his knees in front of Stiles, was the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Stiles?” he croaked out as he gently nudged his shoulder. Nothing happened. He tried again, this time slightly louder.

“Stiles!” There was an edge of panic creeping into his voice now and he prodded more sharply at Stiles’ shoulder with two fingers. Stiles woke with a yelp, windmilling his arms wildly as he tried to keep from falling out of the chair. Derek stood up quickly and took a long step backwards in order to avoid being slapped in the face.

“Ow,” Stiles muttered grumpily as he rubbed the spot on his shoulder where Derek had poked him. “Why the hell did you wake me up?” he groused, while struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I woke you up wondering if I needed to take you to the hospital,” Derek replied evenly as he stared pointedly at Stiles’ blood smeared chest and raising his eyebrows.

Stiles huffed. “It’s your blood, genius. Not mine. I thought you had super werewolf senses? Can’t you smell that or something?”

“It smells different when it’s,” he paused, “on you,” he finished lamely. Stiles stared back, eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t paying all that much attention to how things smelled at the moment.” Derek shrugged.

“Oh. Uh, okay,” Stiles stammered back. He winced as he tried unsuccessfully to find a more comfortable position in his chair. Derek stood nervously shifting his weight back and forth.

“Stiles, uh, why did you bring me to _your_ house?”

“Well, the last time I tried to take you home, if you can even call it that, when you were on the verge of death, you threatened to rip my throat out--with your teeth. So I figured bringing you here was in the best interest of both you and my throat. I also lost my phone, so it’s not like I could call Deaton or anyone else to come get your sorry ass.” Derek gave him a slight nod, not wanting to continue the conversation any longer.

“You should probably get cleaned up some before your dad gets home. Unless you feel like now’s a good time to fill the Sheriff in on the whole werewolves exist thing.” Derek tilted his head to one side and cocked an eyebrow.

“Ugh, probably,” Stiles whined back. He wobbled unsteadily to his feet. Stiles started to pinball back and forth between the walls of the hallway before Derek finally grabbed an arm and draped it over his shoulder to steady him. Stiles let out an annoyed sounding grunt, but made no further complaints as Derek led him to the bathroom. 

Derek flipped on the light and Stiles stood in front of the mirror squinting at his reflection. He pulled a battered first aid kit and a fresh washcloth out from the cabinet under the sink.

“Dude, how do you even have this much blood?” Stiles whined as he started wiping at his chest with the damp washcloth. “If I get some sort of weird werewolf disease from this--”

“Werewolves don’t get diseases,” Derek cut him off with a glare.

Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to gently dabbing at the cuts on his arms. He kept wincing every time he got near a cut or bruise, or about every ten seconds. Derek got impatient. He plucked the washcloth out from Stiles’ hands and guided him to sit down on the toilet. He pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a handful of cotton balls from the first aid kit.

“And why am I suddenly trusting the werewolf with supernatural healing abilities to perform first aid on me? Seriously, do you even know what the hell you’re doing?”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, “shut up.”

“I’m just saying. My fragile human body takes days to heal. Days, Derek. Days. I really don’t need for it to take any longer.” He was nervously eyeing the cotton ball Derek was pouring alcohol onto.

“I had younger cousins, you know.” Derek replied softly. “Some that were human. I’m pretty sure I’ve treated enough scraped knees to get the general idea.” His hand shot out, snagged Stiles’ arm, and he gently wiped at one of the deeper cuts. Stiles hissed as the alcohol stung his exposed flesh. He tried to yank his arm back, but Derek held on to it firmly and continued dabbing away at the other cuts up Stiles’ arm.

“Stiles, you can’t keep doing this.” Derek’s voice was sharper now.

“Doing what?” Stiles replied, putting far too much emphasis on the last word.

The words practically exploded out of Derek’s mouth “Getting involved, coming out with the rest of the pack, throwing yourself in front of danger every chance you get!” As soon as the words were out, Derek snapped his jaw shut, muscles twitching in his face as his teeth ground together.

“Screw you!” Stiles spit back into Derek’s face. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Derek dropped Stiles’ arm, curling his hands into fists. He could feel a tingling sensation at the tips of his fingers as he willed his fingernails to not grow into claws. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his reflection in the mirror. His eyes flickered back and forth from blood red eyes of the alpha wolf inside him to his human eyes that were somewhere between green and hazel. He took one more breath, still  
fighting to keep his anger in check.

“I am the alpha of this pack. So, yes, I do get to tell you what to do.” Derek gritted out between his still tightly clenched teeth.

Stiles let out an almost hysterical sounding laugh. “Okay, clearly Gerard knocked something loose in your head. I am not a part of your pack.” Stiles clearly enunciated each word, as if Derek had somehow forgotten how to understand English. “I’m not even a fucking werewolf, for Christ’s sake!”

“Humans can be pack,” he shrugged. “Like I said, some of my family members were human, but we all were still pack.”

“Fine. Even if we are going by your whole ‘humans can be pack’ method, that still doesn’t make me part of _your_ pack. If anything, I am part of Scott’s pack, then.” He raised his eyebrows cockily as if daring Derek to prove him wrong.

“Normally, you would be right. However, you’re forgetting that Scott has offered to join my pack, at the very least until this mess with Gerard has been sorted out. He may consider himself an alpha when he’s with you and the rest of his human friends, but in my pack he’s just another beta. So if you’re considering your alpha to be Scott, then you are now a part of my pack.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. How can you have a second alpha within a pack? Does that make us like some sort of weird sub-pack within your pack or something? I thought this was more of like a pack alliance kind of thing anyway.”

“No. In terms of actual power, Scott doesn’t really have a pack. He can’t draw strength from humans like he can from other werewolves. So in werewolf terms, if he leaves my pack after this is all over, he’ll go back to being an omega and will lose whatever extra strength he’s gained from joining the pack.”

Stiles let out an annoyed sigh. “I don’t care about all your ridiculous werewolf rules. I’m not a werewolf or pack, and I’m not fucking taking orders from you.”

“Fine.” Derek snapped back, temper rising again. “But if you’re going to act like an idiot, you’ll be doing it on your own. I will not be the one to explain to the Sheriff that his son is injured or dead because he couldn’t stop sticking his nose in other people’s business.”

“Sticking my nose in other people’s business?” He shrieked indignantly. “Your creepy uncle is the one who turned my best friend into a werewolf, so yeah I think it is my business. I’d also like to point out that if I hadn’t been ‘sticking my nose in your business,’” he drew quotes in the air with his fingers, “you would be severed in half, lying dead in the middle of the fucking forest.”

“I know,” Derek snarled. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful--” Stiles snorted loudly. Derek paused to get a handle on his temper again, trying to find the right words to make Stiles actually listen to him.

“Stiles, you got lucky tonight. You got away with some cuts and bruises, but it’s not always going to end like this. You said it yourself, your fragile human body is going to take days to heal. Days, Stiles.”

“Don’t mock me,” Stiles snapped back. Derek put his hands up in a calming gesture.

“I’m not trying to. Just, look at me.” He leaned back on his heels gesturing down to his naked torso. “A couple of hours ago I had a sword in my side, halfway into my spine, now you can’t even see a mark.”

“Don’t act like you’re invincible, Derek. You almost died. Even if you didn’t, they know plenty of other ways to kill you.”

“Stiles, just stop. You’re not going to convince me. I know you’re not a werewolf. I can’t force you to do nothing, but you’re not coming to any more pack meetings. If you don’t want to be a part of the pack, then I won’t treat you like pack. I’m not going to be responsible for anymore deaths.”

For once, Stiles did stop talking. His mouth snapped shut and he sat there glaring at Derek. Derek stared right back, not willing to give Stiles an inch. He sighed, rolled his eyes a little, and grabbed Stiles’ arm again. They sat in stony silence while Derek finished cleaning the cuts and scrapes up Stiles’ arms. He tossed the bloodied cotton balls into the tiny trash, and went back to rummage through the first aid kit some more. He came up with Neosporin, bandaids, gauze, and some tape. He gently rubbed Neosporin on every cut. 

Derek covered the largest cut near Stiles’ left shoulder with a gauze pad. Stiles turned his head away as Derek applied the tape, practically vibrating with tension. The rest of the cuts got bandaids, and soon enough Derek was tossing bandaid wrappers into the trash and neatly repacking the supplies into the beat up metal tin.

As soon as Derek moved away to put the first aid kit away, Stiles stood up on shaky legs and stalked back down the hallway to his room. Derek appeared in the room a moment later to find Stiles rummaging through a drawer of shirts. He pulled out a rumpled looking shirt and sighed.

“At least it’s still cold enough to pull of long sleeves without my dad getting suspicious.” He slipped his arms into the shirt and tugged it over his head. Derek could hear his breath hitch as the movement irritated his wounds. He only paused for a moment, though, before getting the shirt past his head and pulling it the rest of the way down over his pale stomach. 

Stiles reached down and popped the button of his jeans as he scanned his floor. Derek blinked and realized he had been unashamedly watching Stiles undress. His head snapped to the right to stare out the window, cheeks flushing out of embarrassment. Stiles seemed not to notice. 

When Derek finally turned his head back, Stiles was stuffing his jeans into a hamper and was now sporting a pair of dark grey sweat pants.Stiles turned around and stared awkwardly back at Derek. Derek shifted his weight uneasily at the realization that he had no reason to still be hanging around in Stiles’ bedroom anymore. 

“You should get some sleep,” Derek growled softly. Stiles gave a small nod in reply. He reached to shove back the blankets as Derek moved towards the window to leave. He paused, however, hand resting on the windowsill, when he heard Stiles’ groans of protest when his muscles refused to obey.

“I thinked I pulled every muscle in my body trying to drag your ass around tonight,” he groaned as he sprawled out on the bed. Derek turned around and went to sit at the edge of the bed, practically hovering over Stiles. Stiles’ eyebrows shot up about as far as they could on his forehead.

“Dude, what are you doing? Are you trying to tuck me in?” he exclaimed. “You’re not going to like read me a bedtime story now or something?”

Derek scowled. “Stiles, shut up,” he groaned. He looked down at Stiles’ stomach, hesitated, then slid his hand under his Stiles’ shirt and placed it on the warm skin of Stiles’ side. 

“Um--” Stiles started, his voice catching in the back of his throat as he stared wide-eyed at Derek. Derek didn’t look up to meet his eyes, thankful that Stiles couldn’t tell that Derek heart was pounding just as fast as his was. Derek focused his thoughts and heard Stiles gasp. Through his pale skin he could see a blackness beginning to trace it’s way up through his veins.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered.

“Taking some of the pain.”

“Does it hurt?” Derek shook his head softly, still not trusting himself to look Stiles in the eye. 

“It’s uncomfortable--” he struggled to find the right words to explain. “It doesn’t last long for me, my body deals with pain more quickly than yours.”

A tiny “oh” was all that Stiles managed to say in reply. After a moment of awkward silence, Derek spoke again.

“Why did you come back for me?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm?” Stiles hummed sleepily. 

“Gerard could have killed you. Why did you risk your life to save me?”

“You’re not a monster, Derek. We may not be the best of friends, but that doesn’t mean I think you deserve to die, especially like that.” Derek couldn’t come up with the words to respond. He slipped his hand back out from under Stiles’ shirt and watched the blackness fade from his veins. His eyes finally flicked up to Stiles’ face. His eyes were closed completely now and he was shifting his body around trying to find the most comfortable position. 

“You have to trust someone eventually. You know that, right?” Stiles muttered half into his pillow. 

“It’s not that easy,” Derek growled, flipping the blankets up over Stiles. 

“Didn’t say it was, but it’s not going to get any easier if you don’t have anyone to rely on. Not saying it has to be me; just think about it?”

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He finally slipped out the window, dropping silently to his feet in the soft grass below. He didn’t stop moving until he reached the treeline. Leaning against a tree he turned back and paused to listen. The soft even thumps of Stiles’ heart reached his ears, telling him that he had finally fallen asleep.

_What the hell am I doing?_ Most of the time Stiles annoyed the hell out of him, yet, lately, he found himself trying to protect him more frequently. And just now, in Stiles’ bedroom, he hadn’t wanted to leave. He yearned to slide between the sheets and wrap himself around Stiles, just to be sure he’d still be there when he woke. He hadn’t felt anything like this since Kate. The thought of her still made his insides twist in rage. 

Letting people in had only caused him pain, made him weaker. He’d lost enough from Kate, he didn’t need to make his life anymore complicated. There were enough problems between figuring out his new pack and the growing number of hunters appearing in Beacon Hills. With that thought, he turned back into the forest.

The abandoned train depot his pack was staying in was at least four miles from Stiles’ house and Derek’s Camaro was still where he had left it, out at the preserve. He did his best to keep to the trees as much as he could. A morning jog was nothing out of the ordinary, but he figured people would stare if they saw him running shirtless with his jeans a matted, mess of blood. 

By the time he arrived at the train depot, every inch of exposed skin was dotted with goosebumps from the frigid air. The rusty, battered doors groaned as Derek pushed them aside enough for him to pass through. On the other side three pairs of golden, glowing eyes greeted him from out of the shadows. At least his pack had all made it back. 

“Where the hell have you been? You told us to meet you back here; it’s been hours, Derek,” Erica hissed as she stepped into the dim light that filtered through the dirt-caked windows.

“I ran into Gerard,” Derek offered, not bothering to explain further. “I’m fine,” he added with a shrug.

“Fine?” She asked, raising her eyebrows and staring at his still filthy jeans. “And what about Gerard? Is he fine, or can we stop hiding out in this dump?”

“I don’t know yet, Erica,” he snapped, impatience winning out over relief that his pack was still intact. “But I intend to figure that out, now.” He stalked off to a room in the back of the depot that he was using. All it contained was an old mattress with a pile of blankets, a duffel bag of clothes, and the large wooden trunk of things he’d managed to save from his family’s old house. Peter was leaning casually in the corner of his room, his usual knowing smirk plastered across his face. He sniffed the air and raised his eyebrows at Derek.

“You’ve been gone for quite some time. And you were with Stiles? What were the two of you up to?” He smiled wickedly, as he inspected his fingernails like they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

Derek ignored him, turning his back to look for clothes. He quickly dug out a shirt and a new pair of jeans from the bag. He tossed the bloody pair in the corner and walked back out to where his pack was waiting, not bothering to acknowledge Peter further.

“Did you find anything out from the other hunters?” Derek asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Erica looked at her feet, Boyd just continued staring silently at Derek, but Isaac answered him.

“No. We counted at least eight of them, including Gerard. They tried to split the rest of us up, but Scott and I managed to stick together and so did Boyd and Erica. After you got separated from us, Scott got shot. Boyd and Erica covered me while I got Scott to Deaton’s and then I met up with them back here. As far as we know the hunters are all still alive, too. We didn’t see them doing anything strange out there though. Maybe it was just a trap to try and get us there all at the same time?”

“I don’t think so. There’s something they don’t want us to know about. I’m going back for a second look.”

“We’re coming with you,” Erica burst out.

“No you’re not,” he growled back. “It’s safer if it’s just me. Isaac, go talk to Scott. See if he can get any information out of Deaton.”

“What about us?” Erica questioned, gesturing to herself and Boyd.

“Stay here and wait. You’ll know if something happens to me.” He turned his back on his pack and stalked out the door. Boyd was still staring in stoic silence, Erica looked confused, and Isaac was trying to hide the blatant worry on his face as the trio watched their alpha leave.

Derek only ran to the edge of the preserve. His car was still parked slightly down one of the access roads, just far enough to be out of sight. It appeared to be untouched. He walked slowly, following the fading scents of his pack, retracing their steps from last night. His ears picked up every single noise throughout the forest, every rustle of the leaves, bird call, tiny thumping rodent heartbeats. There were no humans though. He was alone this time.

The spot where the hunters had ambushed them looked the same as it had last night. He walked around the clearing in a spiral pattern, looking for something, anything, but there was nothing. His nose picked up the scents of his pack and of the hunters, he found a few stray drops of blood, but there was still no sign of what the hunters were up to. Derek focused his attention on Stiles’ scent, following the zig-zag path he had taken the night before. 

It led him to the spot where he had been caught. Gerard and the hunter were gone. He hadn’t really expected them to still be there. The steel cable trip wire was gone as well, but Derek could still see the faint scrapes in the bark the wires had left as they had yanked him from the ground. The only evidence left in the clearing of last night, was the bright red hoodie draped over a nearby tree branch.

The hoodie reeked of Stiles. He snagged it off the low branch. Sticking out of the right pocket he found Stiles’ cell phone. Derek swiped at the screen to find stiles had 27 missed texts from Scott and a few from Isaac as well, wondering if he was still alive. The hunters most likely would have looked through Stiles’ phone for any useful information, so Derek did the same, hoping Stiles’ had not given anything away. 

He tapped the green text icon on the homescreen. Scott’s name popped up first in the list of conversations. He tapped the goofy looking picture of Scott in a lacrosse uniform and scrolled through Scott’s texts. The majority weren’t about werewolves, just complaints about school, homework, lacrosse practice, and his lack of a social life. He frowned as he came across his name in one of the conversations.

_Scott: I’m not telling Derek! He’s the one that did this to me._

_Stiles: Technically his creeper uncle did that to you._

_Scott: Are you defending him?!?!_

_Stiles: No. I’m just saying that we need help. Your girlfriend’s scary grandfather stabbed you in the stomach and threatened your mom. Idk how to handle this._

_Scott: I don’t care if Gerard wants to kill Derek. I’m not asking him for help again._

_Stiles: Well then what’s your plan genius? Because so far all your plans haven’t turned out so spectacularly._

_Scott: Idk yet. I’m going to talk to Deaton tomorrow._

_Stiles: Fine, but I’d like to let it be known that I still think you’re an idiot._

_Scott: Noted. See you tomorrow_

Interesting. A few months ago it had been Scott who came running to him when Peter had been the alpha and Scott didn’t know how to defend himself. Stiles had hated Scott for asking Derek for help. Now it was Stiles begging Scott to work with Derek again. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Derek tapped the back button to look through more of Stiles’ texts. He scrolled through the list of names clicking on each familiar name he saw. Texts from Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Lydia, and Allison all revealed nothing. Just more of the same drabble about homework and complaints about some hellish chemistry teacher named Harris. 

He continued to look through the conversations screen, but the older messages were mostly from names he did not recognize. His thumb paused midswipe when he did recognize a name. He rolled his eyes and tapped the conversation labeled “Sourwolf.” The last text Derek had sent Stiles was about an upcoming pack meeting.

_Sourwolf: Need to talk. Pack meeting tonight @ mine. 6._

_Stiles: What no please?_

_Sourwolf: If I don’t see your ass there by 6 I will disembowel you. This is important._

_Stiles: Sheesh. Take it down a notch Cujo. I’ll be there._

Derek sighed. Nothing was ever going to be easy when Stiles was involved. He tapped the word “Sourwolf” at the top of the screen, opening up his contact information. His lips quirked up a bit at the corners as he hit edit.

There was nothing else for Derek to see in the woods. The hunters were clearly adept at covering up their tracks. He might as well get back to his pack and start working on a new plan. Derek slipped Stiles’ phone into the right pocket of his jeans and pulled the key to the Camaro out of the other.

He parked the Camaro three blocks down from Stiles’ house. The wind bit through his grey henley and he made a mental note to find a new jacket as soon as possible. His steps slowed as he reached Stiles’ house, making sure there were no neighbors watching. He easily leaped up to the roof of the garage near the window to Stiles’ bedroom. 

Stiles was still passed out, oblivious to the fact that Derek was sliding back into his room. Derek could hear the slow even beats of the Sheriff’s hear down the hall, assuming he was most likely asleep as well. Derek draped Stiles’ red hoodie across the back of his desk chair. He quietly rummaged through the mess in the desk drawer until he came up with a pad of sticky notes and a pen. He scrawled a quick note and left Stiles’ phone on top of it.

Derek slipped back out the window, dropping almost silently into the grass for the second time that day. He slipped silently down the street to where his Camaro waited. He hoped Isaac would have something to tell him. For once he would like to go back to living a semi-normal life. Well, as normal as life could ever get for a werewolf, that is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update! I've had a lot going on lately and some family things came up. I promise to get the last two chapters up more quickly!

Stiles scrunched his face up in a hopeless attempt to keep the sunlight from waking him up further. He threw his arm over his face and sighed dramatically. There was no way he was going to fall back asleep. He could feel the aches of sore muscles and the growing pressure of his too full bladder, screaming at him to get up. Despite his muscles screaming protests, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

The sun was still blinding him, so he rolled out of his bed to make his way to the bathroom. He was halfway across the room before something in the corner of his eye made him pause and turn around. It felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His breath was stuck in his throat as he stared at his desk. Draped across the back of his desk chair was his favorite red hoodie. The same favorite red hoodie that had been yanked off his back by Gerard’s hunters in the forest last night.

Heart pounding, he crept over to his desk, then craned his neck to look out his window. Nothing looked out of place, but the hunters had already proven to be more than sufficient at covering their tracks. He turned back to his desk and finally noticed the note. A bright yellow square post-it in the center of his scattered papers and pens. He picked it up. Written in unfamiliar blocky letters it read:

NEXT TIME DON’T LEAVE YOUR PHONE AT A POSSIBLE CRIME SCENE.  
-D

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. It was just Derek creeping around his room. That was fairly normal as far as Derek was concerned. Underneath the post-it was Stiles’ missing cell phone. Hmm, Derek being helpful. Well now that was out of the ordinary. He started scrolling through his recent texts, most of which were panicked versions of “ _Are you OK?!?_ ” from Scott.

Well, that answered his question about Scott being okay. He fired back a quick text. _I’m OK. Sorry lost my phone._ Stiles even came across a text from Isaac inquired about his well being. He texted back a similar response to Isaac as well. He assumed the rest of the pack must be fine or Scott might have mentioned something. Right as he was about to close out of his text messages he noticed an unfamiliar name of one of the conversations. Halfway down his screen was now a conversation titled Alpha Sourwolf. He practically choked on the laugh rising in his throat. His first thought was: _Oh my God. Does Derek Hale actually have a sense of humor?_ The second thought that popped into his brain was: _Shit! Derek read my text messages!_

He stopped panicking about the fact that Derek went through his text messages when he realized that Derek probably hadn’t looked far back enough through his messages to read all of the texts between him and Scott complaining about him. His thumbs hovered over the conversation with Derek, trying to think of an appropriate reply. The thing is, he didn’t talk to Derek. There were short conversations about pack meetings and Derek ordering him to look up something, but never actual conversations. He typed _Thanks_ into the conversation window. Even that just seemed wrong, so he erased it and tossed his phone back onto his desk, remembering his full bladder once again.

Stiles spent his weekend attempting to finish the monstrous amount of Chemistry homework Harris had assigned them. It didn’t help that he was being distracted every other minute either thinking about Derek or yet another whiny text from Scott.

_Stiles: For the last time Scott. I’m not coming over. I’m fine. See you on Monday._

On Monday Stiles plopped his tray down on the table and slid into the chair across from Scott.

“Dude. I’ve been texting you all weekend. Where have you been?”

“Where have I been? I told you I was fine Scott. I was at home, doing homework.” Scott made a face like a wounded puppy.

“I was worried about you,” he muttered.

“Yeah, and I told you I was fine. Some of us are actually trying to pass chemistry.” Scott’s mouth dropped open as he stared wide-eyed at Stiles, clearly having forgotten that they even had chemistry homework. Stiles sighed as he pulled his notebook out of his bag. 

“Don’t give me that look, Scott.” He slid the notebook across the table with a roll of his eyes. “Just don’t copy my answers verbatim this time. I’d really like to make it through one day without getting detention from Harris.” Scott grinned as he pulled out his own notebook and started copying answers.

It was impossible for the two of them to stay mad at each other. Stiles just shook his head and grinned back. While Scott worked on his homework, Stiles began to poke balefully at what he was told was “meatloaf.” He wondered idly what kind of animal even looked like this cooked. Surely this wasn’t beef. He was pretty sure beef didn’t have this greyish tinge. He was about to ask Scott to use his super-human werewolf nose to identify it, when his train of thought was interrupted by Scott’s phone vibrating on the table in between them.

“It’s from Derek -- we’re having a pack meeting tonight, after lacrosse practice. Can I ride with you? My mom has the car tonight.”

“Nope,” Stiles replied. He was now eyeing the meatloaf on his fork suspiciously before he shrugged and shoved it in his mouth. Scott was once again staring at him confused, mouth agape.

“What? Why? Aren’t you going? You always go to pack meetings, even when I don’t want to.”

Stiles just shook his head, mouth still full of meatloaf. 

“Why not?” Scott demanded “You have to come,” he whined. “Derek hates me and I hate going alone.” He gave Stiles his best set of puppy dog eyes. Stiles just swallowed and shrugged apologetically. 

“I’ve apparently been officially disinvited from all future pack meetings.”

“By who?”

“Who do you think, Scott.” Stiles grumbled. “Derek said if I’m not going to listen to the alpha like the rest of the pack, then I shouldn’t bother showing up.” He stabbed angrily at his meatloaf and shoveled another bite into his mouth.

“That’s stupid.” Scott pouted. “Half the pack barely listens to him as it is.”

“Well they’re werewolves. I’m just the fragile useless human.” Stiles snapped, stabbing half heartedly at the remaining meatloaf on his tray. 

“Derek’s an idiot,” Scott said consolingly. “It’s fine. I’ll come over after and tell you everything anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, buddy.”

After lacrosse practice, Stiles drove home while he saw Scott ride his bike off in the direction of the train depot. Stiles didn’t exactly consider himself a nosy person, he just liked knowing things. He was naturally curious. So not knowing what the pack was up to was driving him insane. He did everything he could think of to distract himself once he got home. He took a shower, did his English homework, and started making dinner before his dad got home.

By the time his dad did make it home, Stiles could barely sit still. He sat at the end of the kitchen table, leg jiggling furiously as he wolfed down his spaghetti and steamed vegetables. His father cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Stiles, did you forget to take your adderall today?”

“Uh...nope.” The Sheriff’s eyebrows inched up further. “I’ve just got a test in chemistry tomorrow that I’m a little bit worried about,” he lied.

“Well, don’t stay up too late. I’ve got to get back to the station in a bit. I told Matheson I would pick up his shift, since his kids are still sick.” Stiles nodded in reply, shoved the last bite of his dinner in his mouth, and bolted back up to his room. 

It was after eight, by the time Scott slid open his window and flopped face first into his bed. Stiles paused the youtube video of hilariously adorable kittens he had been distracting himself with and snapped his laptop shut. 

“Well?”

“You should be thankful you don’t have to do pack meetings anymore,” Scott groaned into his pillow. “Derek still has no idea what the hunters are up to, and he was even crankier than usual.”

“He can get crankier? Hmm. I always thought he operated at his maximum level of broodiness at all times.”

“Ugh. You have no idea. He wants us to start taking turns doing night-time patrols through the preserve. God, I’m going to fail all of my classes this semester. I don’t have time for this,” Scott whined, face still smushed into Stiles’ pillow. “How am I supposed to explain to my mom why I’m not home every couple of nights? She’s already pissed at me the way it is.”

“Calm down, Scott. You’ll be fine. You know I’ll help you out with your homework and just tell your mom that you were with me. Tell her that we were studying or something and you fell asleep here.” Scott replied by groaning slightly less piteously into the pillow. “Come on. Is that all you guys talked about? You’ve been gone for hours.” Scott didn’t reply so Stiles jabbed him in the ribs with two fingers. “Hey. Come on. What else?” Scott grumbled and rolled over onto his back. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Derek made us practice fighting each other more. I didn’t think he’d ever let me leave. God, my ribs are never going to be the same again,” he muttered wistfully.

The next two weeks were increasingly dull. At first the whole pack was on high alert, waiting for Gerards’s next move. When nothing happened the first few days everyone seemed to slip back into their normal, boring high school routines. Stiles’ life seemed to get more boring than ever. Since he wasn’t allowed to help the pack, he did the next best thing. He helped Scott. Unfortunately, at the moment, helping Scott mostly meant helping him do his homework and coming up with increasingly ridiculous lies about where Scott went at night.

He was almost starting to miss being chased around the forest by bloodthirsty hunters. Instead they waited and waited and nothing happened. More than once, Stiles had to remind himself not to be bitter. After all it was Stiles who had dragged Scott out into the middle of the preserve to search for half a body. If it hadn’t been for him, Scott wouldn’t be a werewolf and he would still be sitting on the bench with Stiles, worrying about normal teenage problems. It wasn’t that Stiles wanted to be a werewolf either, but he felt more helpless than ever as he found himself being left behind time after time. 

A gasp from the crowd brought Stiles’ attention back to the lacrosse game in front of him. Scott had just bodychecked what appeared to be the opposing team’s largest player. Said player was now in a twitching heap at Scott’s feet, groaning slightly.

“Scott,” he hissed under his breath. “You have to calm down buddy.”

Scott had already learned to manage his new werewolf urges pretty well, but occasionally he still got a little carried away when it was close to the full moon. When the final whistle blew, the teams vacated the field. Their opposing team looking weary and downtrodden, while the boys of Beacon Hills cheered their way back to the locker rooms, slapping each other on the back. They were going to state once again. Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to care. He hung back, waiting to have a moment alone with Scott.

“You doing okay, man?”

Scott sat down on the bench next to him, clutching his stick so hard that Stiles was sure he was going to snap it like a twig. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Just give me a minute.” He inhaled deeply a few times, before he was able to relax his grip some. “Sorry,” he repeated. “Sometimes it’s harder to control when she’s not near--when I can’t find her heartbeat.” 

Scott had figured out that his on and off again girlfriend, Allison, could anchor him and keep him from losing his cool come full moon. Unfortunately, with Allison’s family being the cause of their current predicament, their relationship was firmly in the off stage once again. With Allison keeping her distance, Stiles couldn’t help but be concerned about how Scott was going to handle the upcoming full moon.

“Am I going to need to lock you up again?”

“Nah. I’ll be okay. I can control it now, it just takes a lot more focus. Derek told me it will get easier eventually.”

“What about the rest of the betas?”

“Well Isaac found his anchor last time. Boyd and Erica are--well, we’re working on it. The whole restraints thing didn’t really work out too well for Derek last time. So we are all going to run out in the preserve tomorrow night. Derek thinks that me, Isaac, Peter, and himself should be able to keep Boyd and Erica in line and at least in the preserve we shouldn’t have to worry about getting too close to any humans.”

“Uh, and what about the hunters? You said Derek still hasn’t figured out what they’ve been up to in the preserve. You think it’s safe for you all to just run around during the full moon with two werewolves who are going to be practically feral when Gerard and his hunters could be out there? Are you insane?”

“Stiles,” Scott sighed wearily. “It’s not like it’s my plan. It’s what Derek thinks is our best option. I agreed to help Derek, even if I don’t like it. I can’t just abandon the pack on the full moon. We’re all going to be vulnerable and we need to stick together.”

“No, but come on. How is that seriously the plan? A room full of monkeys smashing their fists on typewriters could have come up with a better plan than that!

“Well it’s the only plan we’ve got. Come on. I need a shower. Derek’s got patrol tonight so maybe I can actually get more than four hours of sleep.”

As much as Stiles wanted to push the matter more, he knew a lost cause when he saw it. Arguing with Scott wasn’t going to change anything, he might as well let him get some well deserved sleep before tomorrow. So Stile settled for patting him on the back as he followed him into the chaotic post-game celebrations in the locker room.

After extricating themselves from the celebrations, Stiles offered to drive Scott home. It was a short trip and Stiles didn’t say a single word. He stared intently out the windshield at the road, despite the fact that he could feel Scott’s eyes on him. He didn’t even glance at Scott when he got out and shut the door carefully behind him. He just stared down at his knuckles gripping the steering wheel, like they might just be able to give him the answers to life.

“Dude, I know you’re mad,” Scott said, just loud enough for his words to be heard on the other side of the window. “You’re never this quiet. I’m going to be fine, you know. God, if it makes you feel better I’ll even take my phone with me. I don’t care how much that pisses Derek off. I swear I’ll let you know if anything goes wrong.”

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to nod his head, before backing out of the driveway. He stopped by his house long enough to see two things. The lack of his father’s cruiser in the driveway, and the note on the fridge explaining that his father was picking up another night shift. Stiles walked right back out the door to his jeep, with his mind set.

He drove on every back road he could take, hoping his father wouldn’t see him. Within ten minutes he was turning onto the main road through the preserve. About a mile in, he turned off on a smaller side road that was only used in the summer by people who camped farther into the forest. It hid his jeep enough to not be noticed from the main road. Stiles tried to open his door slowly and quietly, but winced when all he ended up doing was produce a long drawn out creak. He shut the door more quickly with a soft thud. 

His fingers fumbled for the switch on his flashlight, but before he even managed to take a single step, he was slammed backwards into the door of his jeep. Two red eyes appeared inches from his own face. Derek had one hand fisted in Stiles’ jacket, keeping him pressed against the jeep. The other hand was pressed flat against the window next to Stiles’ face, holding Derek up so he could lean in close.

“Stiles,” he growled. “What the fuck do you think you are doing out here?”

“Out here? Oh nothing. Just out for a bit of a nighttime stroll.” Stiles’ let out a squeak as Derek pressed his fist even harder against his sternum. “Ow, ow, ow! Will you let go? Scott told me you would be out here.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re out here,” he said as he loosened his grip on Stiles’ jacket. “I told you to stay out of our business. It’s not safe out here, Stiles. Get back in your car and go home.”

“Well, first off, I’m out here looking for you, duh. And secondly, I’m aware of just how unsafe the preserve is at the moment, which is exactly why I’m out here.”

“So you’re just purposely looking for trouble?” Derek hissed. “I knew you were stupid, but this--”

“I’m stupid?” Stiles interrupted. “I’m not out here looking for trouble, Derek. I came out here to try and talk some sense into the densest person I have ever met.”

“You’re the idiot who can’t seem to figure out what stay away means.” Derek eyes flash red at him again. Stiles snorts.

“Oh, please. The big, bad alpha act doesn’t scare me anymore. This is stupid, Derek. You just said it yourself. It’s not safe out here. Do you really think it’s a good idea to run around out here during the full moon, when half your pack still can’t control themselves?”

“We’re stronger as a pack, Stiles. It’s better here, where they won’t be able to hurt people. I won’t tell you again. Stay away. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns me when you’re about to get my best friend killed!” Stiles was nearly screaming now.

“Stiles, Scott made his choice. Now come on you’re going home before anything happens.” Derek dragged him by the front of his shirt to the other side of the jeep. He shoved his hand down into Stiles’ front pocket, dragging out his keys. Stiles squeaked again out of surprise. Derek ignored it and shoved him into the passenger seat slamming the door behind him.

“What, you worried I would get lost on the way home?” Stiles leered. Derek snorted.

“More like not dumb enough to think you’ll actually listen to me.” Stiles glared out the window as they drove out of the preserve. 

Derek pulled into Stiles’ driveway and quickly cut the engine. Stiles was already half out of the jeep. Derek trailed him to the front door and when Stiles turned to look at him, he shoved the keys into Stiles’ hand.

“Stay here. I mean it, Stiles. We’ve been out in the preserve for two weeks, and we haven’t found a single thing. It’s going to be fine. Just stay here and don’t do anything stupid.”

“If anything at all happens to Scott tomorrow night because you couldn’t pull your ginormous head out of your ass, I will kill you, Derek. I’ve been reading some interesting spellbooks and I won’t hesitate to practice on you.” Stiles knew Derek could tell just how serious he was from his heartbeat.

“If anything happens to Scott tomorrow, I’d probably let you.” Derek turned and strode away, melting back into the darkness just beyond the reach of the streetlamps. Stiles’ hands shook as he unlocked his front door. He didn’t think he was going to be able to sleep again until the full moon was finally over.

The next day of school felt like the longest day of his life. Stiles barely heard a word in any of his classes, he didn’t even bother pretending to take notes. He spent most of the day obsessively checking the clock, waiting for the the final bell. Being at home was no better. Stiles had no interest in attempting his homework. He flipped lazily through the channels on the TV downstairs, but nothing could hold his attention. Scott had reassured him at lunch that day, that he would have his phone on him and wouldn’t hesitate to call Stiles if he thought anything was up. That fact did little to ease Stiles’ worry. Eventually Stiles settled for pacing his room and alternating between checking his phone for messages and staring at the time.

By midnight the moon was high in the sky and Stiles felt twitchier than he had all day. He couldn’t explain it, but his gut told him something was off. There had to be something he had missed the past two weeks. Everything since that night had been too easy. Logically the six werewolves should be fine without him. It’s not like he could have joined them with Boyd and Erica still without anchors, but Stiles knew it would have made him feel better to be out there with them.

Soon Stiles had gotten tired of pacing. He laid in bed, clutching his phone and fighting to keep his eyes open. He checked his phone for what must have been the eight hundredth time. The screen lit up and showed him that it was now 2:04. He sighed and tossed the phone back down next to him. Just when he was beginning to wonder if he had overreacted about everything, his phone rang. Stiles shot up to a sitting position and jabbed the answer button before even looking at who was calling him.

“Scott? Is everything okay? Are you okay, man?” Stiles said in one quick burst of breath. However, instead of Scott’s voice, he heard a dark chuckle coming out of his phone.

“Ah. Sorry, son. Scott can’t come to the phone right now. He’s a little--tied up.” There was another wicked sounding chuckle and Stiles felt the world fall out from under him. He knew that voice. It was the voice that he heard give the morning announcements every morning at school. The voice that never failed to make his skin crawl. It was the voice that belonged to his temporary principal/hunter, Gerard Argent.

“Don’t you dare hurt him. If you think you can get away with this you’re wrong. I don’t care what it takes, but I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again if anything happens to him.” Stiles fought to keep his breathing in control. The last thing he needed right now was to have a panic attack over the phone. Scott needed him.

“Mr. Stilinski, don’t presume to think you can threaten me with the law regardless of who your father is. I have been hunting werewolves before even your father was born. If you think I don’t know how to hide myself in the eyes of the law, then you are going to be very disappointed in tonight’s outcome if you do not follow every direction that I am about to give you. Is that understood, boy?”

“Yes.” Stiles managed to hiss out from between his tightly clenched teeth.

“Good. Now, if you want your friend here to make it through the night you will come meet me at the address I’m about to read to you. I have a little favor I need you to do me. You help me with my little problem and you and your friend will both live to see the light of day. Do we have a deal, Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles nodded his head, before realizing Gerard couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he hissed again. Gerard read off an address for Stiles to come meet him at and promptly hung up the phone. Stiles scribbled the address down on his hand with a spare pen he grabbed from his bedside table. When Gerard had disconnected, Stiles sat staring at his phone in disbelief. It suddenly hit him, that the number staring back at him wasn’t Scott’s. In fact he had no solid proof at all that Gerard even had Scott.

Stiles flipped through his contacts and hit dial when he got to Scott’s. He held his breath. _Please pick up. Pick up the phone, buddy. Please, please answer your phone. This can’t be happening. He has to be lying. Please Scott. Come on. You promised._ There was no answer. After fifteen rings Stiles got Scott’s voicemail. What little hope Stiles had been clinging to melted away. He decided to try Derek, not ready to quite give in to meeting with Gerard so easily. After ten rings, Stiles’ chest felt tight. Then miraculously Derek answered his phone. 

“Stiles? What--Why are you calling me?” Derek sounded out of breath, which was unusual for a werewolf who Stiles was sure spent all of his spare time working out.

“Derek where’s Scott? Is Scott with you?” Stiles half shouted.

“I--” Derek paused and Stiles felt his stomach twist into knots. “No,” Derek said quietly.

“Where the fuck is he, Derek; I need to know where he is. I need to know right now.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I don’t--I don’t know. There’s traps everywhere. It’s like the entire fucking preserve is booby trapped and I don’t know how it happened, how I didn’t sense them. We all got separated, Stiles. I can’t find any of them.”

“Derek he has Scott. I have to go. I have to get him back.” 

“Who? Who has Scott? Gerard? Stiles don’t you dare go anywhere. Don’t be this stupid. I’ll get him back Stiles.”

“Get him back? This is your fault! If you would have just fucking listened to me--I don’t have time for this. I’m going to get my fucking best friend back.”

“Stiles don’t--” Stiles didn’t hear the rest of Derek’s words. He hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket, and grabbed his keys off his desk. He was going to get his best friend back and when this night was over, Derek was going to wish he was dead after Stiles was through with him.

The address scribbled on Stiles’ hand led him to the opposite side of town, to an abandoned building near the river. He parked the jeep and sat gripping the steering wheel. _Okay Stilinski. What’s the plan?_ His mind was blank. _So no plan. Let’s get this over with._ As he stepped out of the jeep, a door opened and he saw the shadow of a figure waiting. Gerard stepped forward into the dimly lit street.

“I’ve been waiting, Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles took half a step back.

“Just tell me what you want. I’ll do whatever, just let Scott go.” 

“I don’t want you to do anything.” Gerard grinned as he watched Stiles open and shut his mouth soundlessly.

“But--you said--you said you needed me to do something for you.” Stiles stammered, taking another step backwards towards his jeep.

“You have, Mr. Stilinski. All I needed was for you to come to me.” As soon as those words left his mouth Stiles jammed his hands into his pockets for his keys, but a moment later two strong pairs of arms were gripping him on each side. He was dragged inside the dark building to a room in the back. The only light in the room came from a single dirty bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling, just above a single metal chair. 

The man on his left shoved him into the chair, wrenching his arms behind his back and locking his hands together with a pair of handcuffs. The other man produced a pair of heavy duty zip ties, which he used to bind Stiles’ ankles to the chair legs. When they were sure Stiles would not be leaving the chair, they melted back into the shadows and Stiles was left alone save for Gerard, who was leaning cockily in the doorway. 

From what Stiles had seen on the way in the house was empty. No Scott. Scott wasn’t here. Stiles had let himself be fooled the one way he told himself he wouldn’t be. He had let Gerard take advantage of his panic and now look at what he had got himself into. Stiles couldn’t believe he was even thinking it, but he should have listened to Derek. He should have waited for help, waited to know for sure that Scott was gone. When did he get to be so stupid?

“So what exactly do you want with me?” Stiles asked in the most even tone he could muster.

“Hmm. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one of the pack, Mr. Stilinski. I want the alpha.”

“What, and you think he’ll come for me?” Stiles sneered. “You really have lost it, haven’t you? Derek doesn’t even like me. He doesn’t even want me in the pack. What makes you think he’ll come swooping in to rescue me?”

“You think I’ve spent the past two weeks sitting on my hands, waiting for the full moon to come around?” Gerard stepped into the room, stepping closer to Stiles with every word. “I’ve been watching, observing all that time. Do you know what I saw, Stiles? That night I first caught him was pure dumb luck. That trap was never meant to catch him. When my men first came upon the pack, you ran. You ran, and you were followed. The alpha should have stayed to help his betas, but he turned his back on his pack and killed the men that tried to hurt you.”

“So what?” Stiles spat, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“So what?” Gerard spat back, mockingly. “Before I came to Beacon Hills, there wasn’t a pack. This should have been easy. We should have been able to pick you off, one by one. Yet something changed, and as far as I can tell, that’s you, Stiles.”

“You are deranged.” Stiles snorted. “You are so far gone if you really think anyone but Scott will come looking for me. How long are you going to make me sit here, waiting for an alpha that is never going to come?” Stiles enunciated the last few words clearly, hoping they came out convincingly. Gerard grinned back at him. His smile stretching across his face like a demented looking cheshire cat.

“You think I’m just going to let you sit here and wait? No, no. I have plans for you, Mr. Stilinski. Weren’t you listening? I came here to eradicate a pack of werewolves. Your actions seem to dictate that you’re a part of the pack.” Stiles was sure everyone within a mile could hear his heart beating. 

“But I’m not part of the pack.” Stiles stammered weakly. Gerard raised his eyebrows and gave him a cold smile, practically sealing his fate. “I’m not even a werewolf.” Stiles continued desperately. “What about the code? You don’t kill humans!”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s only a matter of time before he tries to turn you. Humans in a werewolf pack don’t stay human for long. Let’s consider this a preventative measure.” Gerard stepped back, looking pleased at the shocked look Stiles was giving him. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that all cleared up, I’ll leave you with my friend here.” Gerard turned to walk out the door, as a stocky, much younger man came to take his place. He carried a black duffel bag that made an ominous clanking noise as he dropped it at Stiles’ feet.

For the first time in a long time Stiles had nothing to say. He watched in grim silence as the other man rolled up the sleeves of his black button-up and unzipped the bag. The man cracked his knuckles and fished around in the bag for something. He straightened up as he slid the brass knuckles he had pulled out onto his fingers. The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

“This might hurt.”


	4. Chapter 4

Derek paced the length of the abandoned train station. What Stiles had said to him the night before was still rattling around the back of his brain. He had to admit that the kid was probably right. The preserve had been suspiciously quiet since their first run-in with the hunters, and yet Derek didn’t think he had any better options. He was unwilling to risk innocent lives because his pack still couldn’t control themselves under the influence of the full moon. 

Restraining his betas had been a miserable failure last time. Sheer luck that Isaac had managed to find an anchor was the only reason they had made it through the night. Derek wasn’t that lucky, he couldn’t rely on luck to pull them through another full moon unscathed. Besides, being in the woods would be good for their wolf side. They would be calmer and easier to control when he could tire them out with a good run. Unfortunately, this was something the hunters probably knew as well. Peter smirked up at him from where he had dropped down onto the old, worn down couch in the middle of the room.

“Still thinking it’s a good idea to take your betas out in the forest tonight, nephew?” Derek stopped pacing to stare him down, eyes bleeding red.

“If you’ve got any better ideas than feel free to start being helpful, Peter,” he snarled. Peter just shrugged and began to page idly through the book he had brought with him, letting Derek return to his anxious pacing. 

Just before dusk, Derek, his three betas, and Scott stood at the back of the Hale house facing the edge of the preserve. Peter, as usual, was nowhere to be found. He was still using his “I’m not up to my fighting weight” excuse. It was getting old. Derek still wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or relieved by the lack of Peter’s presence. In any case he could use some Peter free hours. The three that had anchors stood in a loose circle around the two that didn’t.

Every one of his hairs were standing on end as he waited for the moon to rise above the horizon. He did his best to try to shake off the uneasy feeling settling deep down in the pit of his stomach as the minutes stretched on in silence. His plan was to stick to the trails his family had made over the years of many full moons. They weren’t easily seen by humans, and Derek still knew every one of them like the back of his hand. As the moon began to slip above the horizon he could feel the tug just beneath his skin, begging him to change his shape. The five of them slipped into the trees, breaking out into a four legged run as fur sprouted and teeth grew sharper. 

Derek, Isaac, and Scott ran easily around Erica and Boyd, nipping at their heels to keep them in line. His betas didn’t try and fight him, the run focusing their energy. In what seemed like no time at all the pack had gone five miles and showed no signs of tiring. Derek began to relax just the slightest, until he caught a whiff of something strange. It wasn’t a scent he could identify. It was there and gone in a second, like it had never existed. 

A minute later he almost stumbled head first into the trunk of a tree when he was hit with the sensation of being doused with a bucket of water. They weren’t even near the river yet. It felt like ice water was slowly covering every inch of his skin, from the top of his head dripping all the way down to his toes. The instant he was completely covered it was like every one of his senses went haywire. His vision shifted and blurred, he nose picked up too many confusing scents, the sounds around him were no longer the quiet sounds of the forest at night. Everything felt like the opposite of what it should be. He stumbled forward pinballing back and forth between the trees, trying to right himself, trying to locate his pack. 

Nothing made sense anymore and he finally stopped to grip the nearest tree to him. He tried to focus on one sense and block all the others out. His eyes squeezed shut, he tried to focus solely on the sounds around him. It didn’t help. He couldn’t hear his pack, he couldn’t hear the quiet rustling of the nighttime fauna, he couldn’t even pick out his own heartbeat. All that came to him was a jumble of distorted sounds, none of which he could even place. He tried scent next, but it was the same. Instead of the usual scents of the forest he was hit with a varying array of nonsensical scents. It was like walking past the perfume counter at Macy’s except he was in the middle of the god damn forest and this shouldn’t be happening. 

Claws still out, he swiped angrily at the tree in front of him, trying to relieve some of his frustration to think. He lost his balance and ended up scraping his claws across the top of his thigh instead. Shocked, he fell backwards landing roughly in the leaves, back hitting another tree. To his surprise he felt a warmth spreading across him, radiating out from his rapidly healing cuts. It was like the reverse of the dripping, cold feeling. When the last of the coldness faded from his skin he blinked and he could see perfectly again. All of his senses returned like nothing had happened. It hit him then that whatever had happened to him reacted similarly to how the kanima venom had affected him. His body didn’t realize that anything was wrong, but once he triggered the healing process, his body pushed out whatever foreign substance he had been hit with. Thank god he saw results more quickly with this.

While testing out his returned senses it hit him that his pack was gone. He had no idea how far he’d stumbled off on his own. It was safe to assume they’d all been hit by the same mystery toxin and there’s no telling what the rest of them did. Derek started by backtracking along his own trail to where they had first been hit. Half a mile back he managed to catch a whiff of Scott’s scent. He started to follow the weaving path Scott had left, hoping he wouldn’t have to search too long. It was clearly the hunter’s goal to both separate and disorient them in order to easily pick them off one by one. 

Lost in Scott’s scent, Derek almost didn’t notice the momentary appearance of another strange scent. Two steps later Derek was on his knees, every muscle in his body feeling like they were about to snap. His claws dug into the dirt, back arched with so much pain he didn’t think he could move. It was like being electrified, but he couldn’t tell how. He wondered if he could fix this the same way he had fixed the last poison. With his muscles practically frozen in pain, he had no idea how he was going to be able to claw himself again. He tried, but his arms wouldn’t move an inch. If anything he was only making the pain worse. His eyes flitted around him, trying desperately to come up with a new plan.

Just to his right he noticed a rock jutting up between the tangle of tree roots around him. He managed to just barely shift his weight back and forth. After a few tries he was wobbling unsteadily on his knees. He didn’t know how many excruciating minutes it took before he finally toppled over, his shoulder connecting solidly with the rock with a resounding crack. As his shoulder began to heal itself he felt his muscles loosen one by one as the pain seeped out of his body. 

He was still on his back, gasping for air when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. His first thought was that it was Scott, calling him to figure out how to find the rest of the pack. A moment of hope surged through him, until he saw Stiles’ name lighting up his screen. He tapped the green answer button anyways and held the phone to his ear.

“Stiles? What--Why are you calling me?” Derek gasped out.

“Derek where’s Scott? Is Scott with you?” Stiles sounded frantic.

“I--” Derek paused, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. “No,” he answered quietly.

“Where the fuck is he, Derek; I need to know where he is. I need to know right now.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I don’t--I don’t know. There’s traps everywhere. It’s like the entire fucking preserve is booby trapped and I don’t know how it happened, how I didn’t sense them. We all got separated, Stiles. I can’t find any of them.”

“Derek he has Scott. I have to go. I have to get him back.” 

“Who? Who has Scott? Gerard? Stiles don’t you dare go anywhere. Don’t be this stupid. I’ll get him back Stiles.”

“Get him back? This is your fault! If you would have just fucking listened to me--I don’t have time for this. I’m going to get my fucking best friend back.”

“Stiles don’t--” he heard the click of the call ending, “you dare,” he finished lamely. 

He knew Stiles was right, but he could feel guilty later. It was possible that Gerard had Scott by now. There was no telling how long they had been separated in the forest, but Derek didn’t want to believe it. Derek half wanted to abandon his search for the rest of his pack to stop Stiles. Stiles had been right about Derek walking into a trap, but Derek was positive he was about to make the same mistake. His best bet would be to find Scott. He would at least know for sure then if Scott had been taken by Gerard or not.

Derek picked up Scott’s scent again not far from where he had been paralyzed. Scott’s trail was growing more erratic as Derek moved along. There were long gouges in the trees where Scott had clawed them and it was beginning to look like Scott had been dragging himself through the leaves rather than walking. It didn’t take Derek long to find Scott with his claws suck deep into the bark of a tree, trying to push himself up again to move. 

“Scott?” Derek called out quietly. If Scott recognized his voice, he gave no indication. Derek reached forward and grabbed Scott by his elbow, trying to help pull him upright. Scott immediately started thrashing against Derek’s grasp, blinding trying to fight his way out of Derek’s grip. Without a second thought Derek sank his claws into Scott’s bicep while he used his other arm to try and hold him still against the tree. Just like it had happened to Derek, Scott slowly began to come back to himself. He slid limply to the ground, leaning haphazardly against the tree behind him. He blinked confusedly up at Derek for a moment before frowning.

“Dude. Ow. What the hell did you do that for?”

“Whatever it is, it acts like the kanima venom. If you can manage to trigger the healing process your body will push the toxins out faster. I’m not sure how it gets triggered, but I’ve hit two of the traps already. I think there was some sort of weird scent right before they went off, so if you smell something off, be ready to claw yourself. Got it?” Scott nodded.

“Where’s everyone else?” He questioned, craning his neck to try and peer over Derek’s broad shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” Derek replied, a tinge of worry creeping into his voice. “You’re the first one I found. I was hoping they all hadn’t gone too far, but that appears to not be the case. My senses still don’t feel right after whatever that crap was. I’m not entirely sure how far the rest of them might have gotten.” He paused, biting slightly at the inside of his lower lip. “There’s something else though, Scott.” Derek hesitated again. “I think Gerard might have Stiles.” He couldn’t even look Scott in the eyes as the words came out.

“What?” Scott exploded, levering himself up off the tree so he was standing face to face with Derek. “How? Stiles promised he would be staying at home tonight. How would you know what Stiles is doing anyway?” He accused.

“You weren’t answering your phone, Scott. Stiles was worried. He couldn’t get ahold of you so he called me instead.” Derek sighed weakly as Scott grasped for his phone in his pocket and watched him scroll through the rather long list of missed calls from Stiles. “Scott, he said Gerard called him. He claimed that he had you and that he needed something from Stiles. I tried to tell him to stay put--” Derek shrugged. “Well, you know how much Stiles actually listens to me.”

“I don’t understand.” Scott ground out. “You realize he’s not a werewolf. You can lie to him Derek! Why the hell didn’t you just say I was with you. Why didn’t you just tell him we were fine. Why didn’t you just fucking lie instead of letting my best friend just walk straight into danger?” 

“He’s not an idiot, Scott.” Derek snapped back. “You really think Stiles would be satisfied with me telling him everything was fine? He would have asked to talk to you, Scott. He would have needed proof that you were actually with me if I was going to stop him from doing something stupid. I didn’t know where you were! For all I knew, you could have been caught by Gerard. Okay? I didn’t know what to tell him, so I told him the fucking truth.”

“This is your fault.” Scott stared Derek down as he enunciated every word slowly. “Whatever happens to him tonight is _your_ fault. Scott looked back at his phone and hit the button to dial Stiles’ number. Derek knew as well as Scott did that it was far too late. He could hear the muted sound of Stiles’ phone ringing until finally switching to voicemail before Scott could hit the ‘end call’ button. “I’m going to find him.” Scott growled as he turned to leave.

“No,” Derek snarled at him as he grabbed him by the elbow again. “I am. I’m the one Gerard wants, not you. If he was setting up a trap for you he would have dangled Allison as bait, not Stiles.”

“Um, I’m sorry. Last time I checked Stiles was _my_ best friend. Why the fuck would Gerard expect _you_ to come after him?” Derek paused to choose his words carefully.

“Look, Stiles may say he’s not a part of my pack, but to an outsider it doesn’t look that way. He’s shows up to pack meetings whether I want him too or not, he’s the first person we go to for research, he’s constantly insinuating himself into dangerous situations to help the pack, and he constantly argues with the alpha’s decisions. Scott it doesn’t just look like he’s part of the pack, I let him get away with too much. He looks like my second in command. Not only have the hunters assumed that he’s important to the pack, but that he’s also the weakest link, the easiest to catch. _That’s_ why the hunters expect _me_ to come. I’m the alpha and it’s my job to protect my pack.” Scott’s glare softened marginally.

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” He asked softly. “They’re splitting us all up. They want you to choose. Save your pack, or save Stiles. Either way it’s a trap isn’t it?” Derek nodded glumly.

“I assume if we stay in the forest we’re going to run into hunter sooner or later. They’ve managed to split us up, make us weak. We’ll be easy targets. Most likely they’ll kill you all and save me for Gerard. If I go for Stiles, they’ll be waiting to trap me there as well. Gerard will be with Stiles. He knows that I’m going to come. I don’t care if it’s a trap. I’m going to rip his throat out with my teeth. You need to get the rest of the pack. You’ll be stronger together and you might have a shot.” Scott crossed his arms across his chest, but didn’t argue.

“Fine, but the moment you figure out where Stiles is, I get to know. As soon as I find the other three, we’re coming to help, whether you like it or not. If anything happens to him--” Derek cut him off mid sentence.

“If anything happens to him you can tear my throat out yourself.” Scott looked momentarily surprised by Derek’s answer, but nodded stiffly before dropping down to all fours to lope off into the dark of the forest.

It took Derek nearly half an hour to find his way back to the edge of the Preserve where the Hale house sat. Miraculously, he had managed to avoid encountering any more of the toxin traps. He tore off down the dirt road in the direction of the city. It took every ounce of willpower to remain within the speed limit, once he reached the edge of the city limits. For once he didn’t bother to park a few blocks away from Stiles’ house. Nobody was home and now was not the time to concerned about nosy neighbors anyways. 

Derek leapt straight up to grab the edge of the windowsill of Stiles’ bedroom. He pulled himself up and slid the window open in one smooth motion. After a quick glance around the room he grabbed the first article of clothing he saw--Stiles’ red hoodie, draped over the back of his computer chair. He pressed his face into the soft cotton, inhaling deeply through his nose. Derek leapt feet first out the window, Stiles’ red hoodie still clutched tightly in his fist.

He paused on the sidewalk in front of his car, shifting his head left and right to catch a trace of the scent he was looking for. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the curtains twitching from the house across the street. He briefly considered questioning the nosy neighbor, but he was pretty sure he looked like a lunatic at the moment and it probably wasn’t going to help. Derek tossed the hoodie in his car and rolled all four windows down. 

Tracking Stiles by scent was nearly impossible. Derek had to double back on his route at least half a dozen times. By the end of it he found himself near the river on the opposite side of the city in an area that held a number of abandoned, run down houses that had long ago been condemned by the city. He spotted Stiles’ blue jeep parked near one of the larger houses. He abandoned the Camaro a short distance away along with his phone just after sending a hurried text to Scott with the address.

Logically, he knew he should wait for Scott, for his pack. He wasn’t sure how many hunters Gerard would have inside, but he knew he would be at a disadvantage no matter what. Derek walked slowly towards the building where he could hear a number of soft, thumping heartbeats, and one familiar erratic one beating even faster than it normally did. His ears picked up a half-muffled scream and his walk turned into a run as he pushed his body through the rotting front door. Anger welled up inside him, making his chest feel tight. Claws snapped out of his fingers and his teeth sharpened into fangs. 

Before he could even make it more than a couple steps into the building, he dropped to the ground writhing in agony as electricity coursed through his body. It tightened all of his muscles up, making him bend painfully backwards until it felt like his spine would snap in two. When the pain lessened enough for him to see straight, he blinked up at Gerard Argent standing over him with a stun wand ready to poke him in the ribs again. The old man grinned down at him, making Derek feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“Well, Derek. I have to admit I’m a bit surprised. We didn’t expect you quite so soon. My associate hasn’t quite finished his chat with Mr. Stilinski. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for now, but I’ll do my best to keep you entertained.” He gave Derek a wicked smirk, before sending another jolt of electricity ripping through him. “I do hope you enjoyed the presents I left for you out in the forest,” he smirked. “I met a witch who was surprisingly helpful; well, she was until I removed her head.” Derek gritted his teeth through another shock, not sure how long he would be able to take this, not sure if he could manage to ever reach Stiles.

With Gerard’s next jab, he snapped his hand out to catch the wand before it could reach his side. The electricity coursed through his hand and down his arm instead. He clamped his fist tightly around the wand, crushing the thin metal and somehow managing to jerk it from Gerard’s grasp. In the short time it took him to recover, Gerard had pulled out a gun and had it pressed into his shirt, directly above his heart. Derek could smell the faint traces of wolfsbane the bullets were surely laced with. Any traces of the mocking joy he had seen in Gerard’s demeanor were gone and replaced by a deadly seriousness that had Derek’s heartbeat racing.

“You took my daughter from me, Derek. I fully intend to put you down like the dog that you are, but before I do that, I’m going to take something from you too. Now get up.” He punctuated the last sentence with a short jab to Derek’s chest with the pistol. Derek got slowly to his feet, eyes not leaving Gerard’s face for a moment. He decided to take a chance, hoping that the old man’s reflexes weren’t as good as he thought they would be.

Derek shot one clawed hand up, knocking the gun away from his heart. Gerard’s reflexes were still surprisingly good, considering his age. He pulled the trigger, still managing to shoot Derek in the shoulder before his arm was knocked completely out of the way. His other arm came up, grasping a knife that Derek hadn’t seen him pull out. He drove it into Derek’s stomach as Derek fell to his knees. Gerard held Derek upright on his knees, one hand pressing the knife into his abdomen while his other hand painfully gripped Derek’s shoulder where the bullet had torn through it.

“The longer you spend with me, the more time my associate spends with Mr. Stilinski, Derek.” Gerard growls into his ear. The words hurt more than the knife in his gut. He gave a small nod, showing that he understood Gerard’s words. The knife came out slowly and once again Derek pulled himself back up onto his feet. Small tremors ran across his body and Gerard roughly guided him to a room near the back of the house. With every step he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing louder, could hear his own stuttering in fear.Gerard shoved the door open, and the sharp, copper scent of Stiles’ blood hit him in the face. It made his stomach turn as he helplessly watched Stiles twitch and struggle under the hands of the other hunter.

“Why?” Derek gasps out. “He’s human. He hasn’t hurt anybody. Your code...” He trailed off, trying to think of any excuse.

“I told you, Derek. Your pack is responsible for my daughter’s death. You took something I cared about and now I’m going to do the same.” he replied coldly. Derek sagged slightly in his gasp.

“Stiles.” he called out softly. “Stiles, I’m sorry.” He choked out. He could still hear Stiles’ heart beating, but Stiles was still. He hadn’t heard Derek’s words. Gerard gave a minute nod to the other hunter as Derek tried to lunge to his feet. The other hunter had drawn a wicked looking knife from the bag at his feet and Derek felt his heart drop. Gerard’s grip tightened on his shoulder, digging painfully into the bullet wound.

Derek twisted in his grip at the same moment the door to the room banged open. Scott stood in the doorway, his betas peeking over his shoulders. Using the surprise to his benefit, Derek slipped out from Gerard’s grasp, lunging forward at the hunter with the knife. His clawed fingers sank into the man’s wrist and the knife clattered to the floor. With a roar he tossed the man away like a rag doll, where he hit the opposite wall with a wet thud.

Ignoring the snarling fighting going on behind his back, he sank to his knees in front of Stiles. His claws sliced through the zip ties around Stiles’ ankles, and he reached behind the chair to snap the chain of the handcuffs apart. Stiles slid limply forward off the chair into Derek’s chest. Derek did his best to gently wrap around Stiles, drawing him tighter against his chest as he lifted him up. When he turned around Scott and his pack were waiting. Hunters he hadn’t even seen when he entered the building lay around their feet, but Gerard was nowhere to be seen. 

“Stiles!” Scott yelped as he rushed forward, gently cupping Stiles’ face in his hands. “Derek, we have to get him the the hospital,” he whispered as the color drained out of his face. Derek freed one arm to yank the keys from his pocket, and thrust them into Scott’s hands. He ran as steadily as he could back to his car, behind Scott, doing his best not to jostle Stiles. 

He laid Stiles gently across the backseat, sliding in after him to cradle his head in his lap. Before he could shut the door, Boyd wordlessly pressed something smooth and cold into the palm of his hand. As Scott sped away he uncurled his fingers to see a small bullet, belatedly remembering why the pain radiating out from his shoulder wasn’t disappearing. He pulled the casing apart with his teeth and dumped the powder out on the console between the front seats. He stretched over Stiles to light the powder with the lighter he kept in his jacket. The powder sparked and flared blue for a moment before Derek shoved as much as he could into the hole in his shoulder. 

It hurt a thousand times more than the bullet had, but he held as still as he could under Stiles and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. When the pain subsided he lowered his gaze back to the bloody mess that was now Stiles’ face. He gently swiped a streak of still wet blood away from Stiles’ bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Don’t you dare die on me,” he whispered. “It’s supposed to be my turn to save your ass.” He could feel Scott’s eyes watching him in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t care anymore.

Scott got them to the hospital in record time. The car had barely stopped before Derek was out of it, pulling Stiles into his arms again. Scott led the way, pushing the doors to the ER open as people turned their heads to stare at the bloody mess that was Stiles and Derek. 

“Mom,” Scott gasped as he spotted Melissa rushing down the hall after another nurse. 

“Scott? What’s going on?” Her voice trailed off as recognition dawned on her face. Melissa wasted no time. She immediately paged a number of people and guided Derek to place Stiles on a gurney where he was quickly wheeled away leaving Derek and Scott standing alone in the half-empty ER waiting room. 

“Derek,” Scott tugged on his arm, breaking the silence. “You should get out of here. Stiles’ dad will be coming soon. You shouldn’t be here.” Derek shrugged Scott’s hand off.

“Your mom has already seen me here. It’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to talk to him.” Scott sighed.

“At least go clean yourself up some.”

Derek found a bathroom down one of the hallways leading off from the waiting room. He splashed some water on his face and used a handful of wet paper towels to attempt to scrub off the dried blood on his arms. He didn’t exactly have a spare shirt so he shrugged and let it be. When he found his way back to the waiting room the Sheriff was there, his face looking wrecked as Scott gripped his shoulder and spoke softly to him. When Derek approached the Sheriff’s face turned dark. He yanked his arm back and punched Derek square in the jaw.

“I don’t know what the hell you got my kid mixed up in...” Scott tugged the Sheriff backwards away from Derek.

“Don’t. He’s the one that saved Stiles, John.”

“No, he’s right, Scott. It’s my fault. I deserve worse than that.” Derek stared guiltily down at his shoes. The Sheriff didn’t say another word, just stalked away to find a nurse. When he was gone Derek glanced up at Scott.

“What did you tell him?”

“Just the bare minimum,”Scott sighed as he slid into one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. “I told him we got a call and that he was acting weird. We were worried so, we tracked his cellphone. Then we found him beat up in an abandoned house. He’ll want to know more later, but we’ll worry about that when Stiles wakes up.”

Derek slumped into the chair next to Scott and settled in to wait. The Sheriff had reappeared, but he mostly avoided them, alternating between talking on his cellphone and frequently bothering the nurses for updates. Derek was half asleep when a tired-looking Melissa re-appeared and nodded for the Sheriff to join her. He shut his eyes and focused on their distant conversation. Stiles was alive. He was in stable condition and they were allowing the Sheriff in to see him. Derek let out a sigh of relief. The Sheriff disappeared down the hall and Melissa pulled Scott aside, with a worried expression. Scott was back a moment later, nudging him with a hand. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Stiles, but you should probably leave.” Derek glared up at him. “I’m not saying it like that,” Scott rushed. “I just mean you should probably go take a shower and change or something. You look like an axe murderer at the moment and Stiles’ dad might be less opposed to you going in to see him if you, I don’t know, didn’t look like you just rolled around in a pool of his son’s blood.” Derek considered his words before getting up from the chair. 

“You should probably do the same, Scott.” 

Derek showered, changed in record time. He tried to get some sleep but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Stiles’ bloody body in his arms and his eyelids snapped back open. He gave up on staying away and returned to the hospital. He’d just have to hope the Sheriff wouldn’t shoot him this time. He ran into Scott’s mom as soon as he entered the building. Melissa, realizing that she probably wasn’t going to be rid of him any time soon, took pity on him and showed him to Stiles’ room. From the sounds of things, the Sheriff had finally been forced to go home and get some sleep.

Derek slid into the chair next to the bed, studying the bruises on Stiles’ face. He as least looked a little better without blood smeared across his face. He watched the gentle up and down of Stiles’ chest until his eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but the sky outside the window was dark again, so he assumed he had been out most of the day. A pair of eyes watched him from the other side of the room and he realized why he had woken up. The Sheriff stared at him in tight lipped silence from just inside the doorway. Derek just stared at his hands in silence as the Sheriff adjusted Stiles’ pillows, making sure his bandages were all still okay. They suffered in silence with Stiles between them until the Sheriff’s phone called him away once again.

Scott appeared the next morning. He forced Derek out of the room, telling him to eat. Stiles wasn’t going anywhere. Derek reluctantly forced down a plate of bland cafeteria food that he barely tasted before returning. He paused in the doorway when he heard voices. Stiles was awake and Scott leaned over him, grinning and recounting the tale of how the Sheriff had punched Derek in the face. Derek’s frown only softened when the corners of Stiles’ mouth quirked up as he caught sight of Derek in the doorway.

“Hey,” he rasped out.

“Hey,” Derek replied as he moved to sit next to Stiles’ bed again.

“Well I’m going to go find you something to eat, buddy.” Scott disappeared in an instant leaving an awkward silence hanging between the two of them. Stiles was the first to speak.

“So, uh, Scott told me you’ve been here like the entire time.” Derek shrugged.

“You did the same for me.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, eyebrows shooting up. “You almost got cut in half and were fine in a matter of hours. If you’re planning on waiting on me to get better, you’re going to be here awhile. You should have at least brought a magazine. That’s really poor planning on your part. I know for a fact that hospitals have the worst magazines.” He trailed off after that and Derek could sense the slight edge of unhappiness that crept into his voice.

“Don’t really have anywhere else to be.” Derek shrugged again. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Stiles mused. “I’m sure sleeping in the chair next to my hospital bed must be way nicer than wherever you sleep in your creepy hobo train.” Stiles’ rambling was cut off by his father entering the room.

“Hale,” he said with a pointed glare. “Don’t you have somewhere better to spend your time?” Derek nodded and left the man to catch up with his son. 

Derek made it two whole days without seeing Stiles. He finally cracked on Wednesday afternoon after one to many pointed smirks from Peter. Thankfully he found Stiles in his room, alone. He was beginning to worry that the Sheriff might actually shoot him soon. Stiles was sleeping peacefully and Derek couldn’t bring himself to wake him, so he settled down quietly in the chair nearest to the bed. He immediately felt more relaxed than he had been over the past two days. He was just starting to nod off when a sharp yelp made him snap his head back up.

“Dude, were you watching me sleep?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Derek grumbled.

“So you just decided to creepily loom in the darkness over my sleeping body. You know what, I’m not actually surprised now that I think about that. Nope. So what are you doing here, sourwolf? Because seriously, if it’s research, it’s not going to happen. I’m freaking exhausted, not to mention the obvious lack of electronics.”

“Stiles, I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Derek said with raised eyebrows.

“The alpha’s making social calls now? Well, I feel honored.” Derek rolled his eyebrows. “Well, if you have to know, I’m freaking dying of boredom. Those bastards won’t release me until Friday. They don’t even have me on an IV or anything anymore. I’m just here for ‘observation,’” Stiles grumped as he made obnoxious finger quotes. “I’m pretty sure if I’m just going to lay around in a bed I could do that at home. At least I’ve got wi-fi there.” He let out a wistful sigh.

“I also wanted to apologize.” This time it was Stiles’ turn to raise his eyebrows. “It’s my fault Gerard took you. I was trying to keep you out of this mess. It shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t have happened to you, Stiles, and I’m sorry.” Stiles put a gentle hand on his arm.

“Derek this isn’t your fault. You did try to keep me out of this shit, but I’m pretty shit at doing what people tell me to do, even if it is in my best interest. It’s like when someone tells a kid not to press that big red button because they’ll get in trouble, but it just makes them want to do it even more. You told me to stay at home, Scott told me to stay at home. I just couldn’t help it. I had to press that big red button.” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not just that, Stiles. Gerard didn’t just take you because you’re important to the pack. He took you because you’re important to me.” Stiles opened up his mouth, but clamped it shut a moment later, at a loss for words. He just stared back at Derek, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Derek did the first thing that came to mind. He leaned forward across the bed, one hand gently brushing Stiles’ unbruised cheek, tilting his head ever so slightly so he could press their lips together. The kiss, if you could call it that, lasted a mere moment. Derek felt Stiles tense up under his touch and ripped himself away to see Stiles’ shocked face staring at him in horror.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Derek whispered before he practically sprinted out the door.

Derek didn’t know why he had kissed Stiles. He’d been holding back on that urge since the night Stiles had saved him from Gerard. He don’t know why he got the impression that Stiles might ever have the same feelings for him. He tore off his jacket, throwing it into the back of the Camaro as he drove away from the hospital. He didn’t drive back to the train station. He drove back out to his old house. Derek stripped off his shirt and pants, stepping out of his boxer briefs as he bent forward, shifting into his alpha wolf form. It wasn’t something he did often. He frequently stayed in his beta form in order to have better control over his betas.

This time was different. This time he wanted to strip himself of all his human worries. He let himself forget his mistakes, shifted into a dark grey wolf and ran. He ran until even his superhuman strength began to wane. He ran until all four legs ached and his lungs burned with every breath. When he couldn’t run any longer he stopped to howl morosely up at the waning gibbous moon above him.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles woke up to an unfamiliar looking ceiling and a dopey looking face staring down at him. 

“Stiles! You’re awake!”

“Mmmphff. Five more minutes, Scott,” he mumbled. He tried to roll over to bury his face into his pillow, but as his body shifted pain shot through every limb.

“Whoa, try not to move, buddy.” Scott gently pressed his shoulders back against the mattress, before raising the bed so Stiles could look at him without craning his neck. Along with the pain came the memories of just how Stiles had ended up in the hospital. Some of them at least. He remembered enough to suddenly exclaim “Scott! You’re okay!”

“Of course I am. Though next time could you try and take your own advice and not go walking straight into any traps?” Scott gave Stiles his most concerned looking face and Stiles’ weakly formed arguments faded before they even passed his lips.

“I’m sorry, man. I really should have known better especially after all the crap I gave Derek.” Stiles croaked out.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad, Stiles. We’re all just glad you’re still here.” Scott reached over to give Stiles the cup of water at his bedside. “I gotta ask, though. What’s going on between you and Derek?” Stiles started to choke on the water he had been sipping, which led the what was probably the most painful coughing fit of his lifetime. Scott swooped in gently patting his back until it stopped.

“Sorry, man” Scott said with an apologetic grin. 

“Why would you think there was anything going on between me and Derek?” Stiles asked, incredulous.

“Well, I’m going to start with the fact that you were apparently Derek bait last night. Also, you didn’t see what he looked like when we found you. I’ve never seen him so angry in my life. Then there’s the fact that other than just now when I forced him to go to the cafeteria to eat something, he’s been at your bedside since the moment your dad allowed him in the room.” Stiles could do nothing but soundlessly open and shut his mouth. The words just wouldn’t come out. He was pretty sure Scott had just broken his brain.

“Wait, what do you mean the moment my dad let him in the room? Are you telling me that my dad now knows that I know Derek Hale, and that he, willingly, let him into my hospital room to sit with me? Oh, my god, my dad’s going to murder me, isn’t he? How the hell am I supposed to explain that I’m frenemies with Derek Hale to my dad, Scott?”

“Frenemies? Really, Stiles?” Scott let out an exaggerated sigh. “Beside, you should be more worried about him killing Derek than you.” Stiles’ eyebrows shot up as Scott regaled to him the epic tale that was Derek Hale getting suckerpunched by the Sheriff. By the end of the story he looked over to see Derek leaning quietly in the doorway. 

“Hey.” Stiles’ voice was still scratchy and he flinched a bit at how horrible it sounded.

“Hey.” Derek shot back. He uncrossed his arms and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

Stiles barely heard Scott say something about going to get him something to eat, before sliding out the doorway. He turned and gave Stiles a wink when Derek wasn’t looking. Stiles just barely resisted the urge to flip him off. Stiles’ tongue felt thick in his mouth and his chest tightened as he struggled to find something to say to break the silence.

“So, uh, Scott told me you’ve been here like the entire time.” Derek shrugged.

“You did the same for me.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, eyebrows shooting up. “You almost got cut in half and were fine in a matter of hours. If you’re planning on waiting on me to get better, you’re going to be here awhile. You should have at least brought a magazine. That’s really poor planning on your part. I know for a fact that hospitals have the worst magazines.” He trailed off realizing what he had said, dragging up old, unwanted memories.

“Don’t really have anywhere else to be.” Derek shrugged again. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Stiles mused. “I’m sure sleeping in the chair next to my hospital bed must be way nicer than wherever you sleep in your creepy hobo train.” Stiles’ mouth snapped shut when he realized there was someone else standing in the doorway now. His father.

“Hale,” the Sheriff said with a pointed glare. “Don’t you have somewhere better to spend your time?” Stiles stared helplessly as Derek left nearly as quickly as he had come. He wasn’t sure if he was more grateful or disappointed by that. As soon as Derek was out the door the hard look melted off his father’s face.

“How you feeling, kid?” he asked straightening out Stiles’ blankets some.

“Like I got hit by a freight train and then pushed off a cliff.”

“I’ve been worried about you, Stiles. We don’t talk like we used to.”

“Dad--”

“No. I don’t want to hear more excuses or lies, Stiles. Now you get a free pass while you’re still in the hospital. Mostly because I’m afraid of what Melissa will do to me if I upset you, but once you get home we’re going to have a nice long talk. We can start with the topic of why you suddenly seem to be friends with a murder suspect.”

“Hey. Ex-murder suspect. You’re the one that cleared him, you should know that.”

“That’s not helping your case much, son.” Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Yeah. Okay, we’ll talk.”

Scott popped his head in the doorway interrupting the two of them. Stiles grinned back in relief. Scott set a tray of cafeteria food down on the table next to the bed. 

“Sorry, buddy. No curly fries. This was the best I could do.” He gestured down at the mashed potatoes, chicken, and jello. It definitely wasn’t a five star meal, but Stiles heard the obnoxious rumbling his stomach made when the scent hit his nose. It made him realize how long it had actually been since he had last eaten. Luckily, it also gave him an excuse to not have to talk for a while.

Scott babbled about his day while Stiles dug in to his questionable looking cafeteria dinner and the sheriff watched quietly from the corner. He talked about Allison and homework and how terrible Mr. Harris had been in chemistry that morning. Stiles was incredibly grateful. The last thing he needed was for his dad to hear anything about werewolf drama. 

Stiles felt overwhelmingly tired again by the time he had finished his dinner. The three of them ended up quietly watching C.S.I. reruns on the small T.V. mounted on the wall opposite Stiles’ bed. Just as Stiles was beginning to drift off, he jerked back to consciousness at the sound of his dad’s cell phone shrilly ringing. He rubbed blearily at his eyes while his dad stepped into the hall to take the call. Scott was already out in the chair next to him, a thin strand of saliva flowing from the corner of his mouth to leave a damp spot on his shoulder. His dad ducked in after a minute with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, kid. I’ve got to go take care of this. You can call me if you feel like you need me, okay?”

“Dad, I’m fine. I’ve got Scott here, and Melissa. Go.” His dad still looked hesitant, but Stiles waved him off with a few more “I’m fines” and “don’t worrys.” When he could no longer hear his father’s retreating footsteps, he elbowed Scott, making his arm slip off the chair and jerk him awake. 

“Ow. What? Stiles? Everything okay?” he asked around a wide yawn, while wiping the drool away from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.

“Everything’s fine, boy wonder.” Stiles answered wryly. “My dad just got called in to work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Now help me! I have to come my up with something to tell him Scott. He said when I get home we are going to have a conversation about everything that’s been going on with me. How am I supposed to explain this?” he hissed.

“Well how do you usually explain this kind of stuff to him when he gets suspicious?”

“Usually I can just pass it off as us doing stupid stuff together, but he knows I’m lying to him about some stuff. I can’t tell him the truth though. Derek will kill me and it’s not like he’d believe it anyway. Yeah, by the way, Dad, my principal hunts werewolves. He kidnapped me to use as bait to get to the alpha of the local werewolf pack that I may or may not accidentally be a part of. Oh, and did I mention that said alpha is Derek Hale, the guy you arrested recently on suspicion of murdering his sister and spends all of his free time looming in dark corners and stalking teenagers?”

His chest hurt from talking too quickly and he had to stop and close his eyes to refocus on taking deep breaths. He was not going to have a panic attack about this. No sir. No more panic attacks. Not anymore. Scott looked a little dumbfounded and didn’t answer Stiles. Stiles sighed and patted Scott on the knee. 

“It’s okay, man. I didn’t really expect you to have an answer. Don’t worry. I’ve still got a few days here. I’ll think of something.” Scott looked relieved.

“Maybe I could ask Allison to help think of something tomorrow?” Scott volunteered hopefully.

“Yeah, buddy, that’d be great.” He knew Scott was trying, but he also knew that Scott would jump at any excuse to go spend time with Allison. Time which would most likely not be spent helping Stiles. 

They ended up kicking back once again to make it through another episode of C.S.I. before Melissa finished her shift and dragged Scott home with her.

“You have homework to finish, Scott. I let you stay with Stiles all evening, let’s go. If I get one more call from one of your teachers about your grades you’re going to end up spending a couple of nights in the hospital yourself. Go get the car while I say goodnight.” Scott dragged himself out of the chair with a huff. Melissa fussed about a bit with Stiles’ blankets and checked over his IV drip to make sure he was still getting enough painkillers.

“Nurse Winters is on the night shift tonight. Don’t be afraid to call her if the pain gets worse, okay, honey? You can always call me at home, too, if you need someone to be here with you.”

“You sound just like my dad. I promise I’ll be okay, Melissa. I’ll call you if I need anything. Now go home. I think I can handle sleeping all by myself, thanks.” Melissa rolled her eyes a bit as his sarcastic tone, but still threw a worried glance over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

_God you would think I was dying_ , he thought. He wasted a few more hours channel surfing until Nurse Winters’ glared one too many times as she passed by his door and he turned the T.V. and his lights off. His eyelids felt like they were being pulled down by weights, and yet he couldn’t quite seem to keep them shut.

He realized the last time he had slept in a hospital was when his mom had been here. Suddenly, he wished he had asked Melissa to stay with him. Without the distractions of his father or Scott, his mind was left to wander. His mind brought back a plethora of unpleasant memories of the many nights he had spent curled at the side of his mother’s hospital bed.

Stiles slept fitfully, if you could even call it sleep. He woke up every few hours, heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears from the nightmares. Nightmares that he hadn’t had in years. When Melissa showed up in his doorway with a breakfast tray the next morning, he was exhausted and bleary eyed, but he still attempted a smile.

“Did you sleep at all last night, Stiles?”

“Some.” He shrugged. He didn’t really want to explain, and was thankful that Melissa knew him well enough not to push the subject further. She left him to his breakfast before returning to poke and prod at his battered body. Stiles was a little horrified as he watched her change his bandages. He hadn’t actually gotten a good look at any of his wounds since arriving in the hospital. There were black and blue patches all across his chest. The raised edge of the stitches that trailed down his side made him feel light headed. He closed his eyes until Melissa had his bandages back in place once again.

When Melissa had finished his attending physician stopped by. Stiles learned that he was still going to be kept under observation for a few more days due to the severity of the bruising to his chest and his cracked ribs. The doctors didn’t want him to move before absolutely necessary. His doctor told him he should be able to go home by Friday. He was going to lose his mind by then. 

The rest of his day dragged on with varying degrees of boredom. He’d forgotten just how terrible daytime T.V. was. At least Melissa had dropped off a few paperbacks for him to occupy his time, but none of them seemed to keep him interested very long. 

Scott and his father both dropped by his room again that night. Scott left a pile of homework sitting on the bedside table, but at least his father had thought to bring his phone charger. Thank God he could at least text Scott now. The addition of his now fully charged phone helped, but if he could have moved he would have been crawling up the walls. He even finished his homework in what was probably record time.

He finally nodded off to an episode of Supernatural he’d found while channel surfing some more. Stiles blinked sleepily as he heard the end credits to the episode. He yawned and reached for the water on his table. When he turned to take a drink he yelped in surprise to find Derek sitting next to his bed.

“Dude, were you watching me sleep?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Derek grumbled.

“So you just decided to creepily loom in the darkness over my sleeping body. You know what, I’m not actually surprised now that I think about that. Nope. So what are you doing here, sourwolf? Because seriously, if it’s research, it’s not going to happen. I’m freaking exhausted, not to mention the obvious lack of electronics.”

“Stiles, I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Derek said with raised eyebrows.

“The alpha’s making social calls now? Well, I feel honored.” Derek rolled his eyes. “Well, if you have to know, I’m freaking dying of boredom. Those bastards won’t release me until Friday. They don’t even have me on an IV or anything anymore. I’m just here for ‘observation,’” Stiles grumbled. “I’m pretty sure if I’m just going to lay around in a bed I could do that at home. At least I’ve got wi-fi there.” He let out a wistful sigh, remembering how much he missed internet.

“I also wanted to apologize.” Stiles sat up a bit, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Derek.“It’s my fault Gerard took you. I was trying to keep you out of this mess. It shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t have happened to you, Stiles, and I’m sorry.” Derek was apologizing to him? He was pretty sure the painkillers they were giving him must be pretty strong because this had to be a hallucination. However, he could see Derek’s face scrunch up as his stared at his shoes, not meeting Stiles’ eyes. Stiles realized belatedly that this was clearly Derek’s ‘I’m sorry’ face. He tentatively reached out to place his hand on Derek’s arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Derek this isn’t your fault. You did try to keep me out of this shit, but I’m pretty shit at doing what people tell me to do, even if it is in my best interest. It’s like when someone tells a kid not to press that big red button because they’ll get in trouble, but it just makes them want to do it even more. You told me to stay at home, Scott told me to stay at home. I just couldn’t help it. I had to press that big red button.” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked frustrated, like talking to Stiles was worse than taking on ten hunters alone.

“It’s not just that, Stiles. Gerard didn’t just take you because you’re important to the pack. He took you because you’re important to me.” Stiles opened up his mouth, but clamped it shut a moment later, at a loss for words. He just stared back at Derek, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was pretty sure he wasn’t. Wasn’t Derek the one who told him to stay out of pack business and all that? Unless pushing him up against hard surfaces and trying to crack his head open was how Derek thought you made friends, Stiles called bullshit.

Before Stiles could call him a liar, Derek had leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to Stiles’. They were surprisingly soft, unlike Stiles’ own, which were probably pretty gross and chapped at the moment. _Holy crap_ , he thought. _Derek Hale is kissing me_. Stiles sat in shell-shocked silence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Derek to be kissing him. I mean looking at Derek Hale was the equivalent of staring into the sun when it came to attractive guys. The only reason he had never tried to flirt with Derek was because Stiles had been fairly certain Derek was straight. There was also the fact that Derek usually glared at him like he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Apparently Stiles had been wrong though. Here Derek was with his lips pressed against his own. His brain was going into overdrive and Stiles couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts. _Derek likes me. Derek is kissing me. Oh God, when was the last time I brushed my teeth? Does this mean I’m allowed to touch him now?_ Before Stiles could pull himself together, Derek was pulling away. He looked a bit like he had been punched in the stomach.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” He barely heard Derek whisper, before he turned and was out the door before Stiles could so much as blink.

Stiles cursed loudly. The one time he couldn’t get his mouth to work. Of course. _Smooth move Stilinski_. Replaying Derek’s visit over and over in his head only made him more anxious to get the hell out of the hospital.

By the morning he had fully planned out his escape from hospital hell. After much grumbling Scott had dropped his jeep off in the parking lot after the Sheriff had left for work. Stiles had observed the nurses, counting the time in between room checks. 

Unfortunately the one thing Stiles didn't think about in his epic escape plan was just how much it was going to hurt. Even with the painkillers he was still taking, moving sucked. He hadn't done much more than shuffle back and forth from the bathroom a few times. He figured if he could handle that he'd be fine. Clearly getting out of the hospital was going to require a lot more from him.

Getting dressed was practically torture. Stretching his arms to get his shirt on was painful as hell and his jeans rubbed roughly against the bruises on his legs. He had to clench his fists and bite the inside of his cheek as he walked through the hallways to the exit, hoping nobody would spare him a second glance. 

He stopped in his jeep to take a few deep breaths. Right, driving couldn't be that bad. It was sitting in one spot and just moving his arms some. Nope. Every bump in the road jarred him against the seat making his back ache and every time he had to shift sharp stabs of pain moved up his right arm. He let out a loud string of curses when he pulled up to the building and Derek's Camaro was nowhere in sight. The hell was he going to let Derek avoid him. 

Stiles ended up with an even bumpier, more tortuous ride to the other side of town and down the dirt road that led to the burnt out remains of the old Hale house. By the end of the drive he was beginning to second guess the logic behind leaving the hospital early. Thankfully he spotted Derek's car parked haphazardly near the front of the house when he made it up the driveway. 

He stumbled his way clumsily up to the front door, hoping that Derek was actually here. The door swung open just as he was about to knock. Derek looked momentarily surprised to see Stiles, maybe even a little bit worried, but his face quickly changed back to it's normal scowly self a moment later. 

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing here? You're still supposed to be in the hospital." 

"We didn't finish our conversation yesterday." Stiles shot back. He tried to cross his arms over his chest to emphasize his point, but halfway through the motion his ribs reminded him it was a bad idea and he slowly lowered his arms back down to his sides.

Derek frowned harder and with a huff grabbed Stiles gently by his elbow, pulling him down to sit on the front steps. He pressed one warm hand to the side of Stiles' neck and Stiles felt everything sort of slip away. The aching pain melted away from his bones, drawn up and out of his body through Derek's hand. It was a thousand times better than the painkillers the hospital had given him. When Stiles felt nothing left but a warm, fuzzy floating feeling Derek drew his hand away.

"Stiles, look I'm sorry about yesterday. Just forget about it okay? It was stupid."

"Forget about it? That's not what I want, Derek!" Stiles snapped, feeling less warm and fuzzy than he had been a moment ago. Derek stood up and turned to reach for Stiles' hand to pull him along.

"I should take you home. I'm sure your dad has already figured out you're missing and he's probably worried about you." As if on cue, Stiles' phone began vibrating loudly in his pocket. Stiles glared at Derek as he pulled out the phone and tapped to answer it.

"Dad?"

"Stiles! Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I just got a call from Melissa saying that you went missing from your hospital room."

"Dad, I'm fine. I'm sorry. There was something I needed to do and I just couldn't stand sitting in that room anymore, Dad. I can't stand being there after--" he trailed off, the unspoken mom hanging in the air between them.

"Damn it, Stiles," his father sighed. "Why didn't you at least tell me you wanted to leave that badly. I would have driven you home myself. You shouldn't be driving on those drugs, it's not safe. Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"You don't need to do that. I'm--uh --I'm with Derek. He'll bring me home." There was a long pause from the other end of the phone and Stiles could only imagine the look on his father's face. He was pretty sure he was going to be grounded for the rest of his high school career at the bare minimum. Finally his dad seemed to find his voice.

"I want you home and in bed within the hour or I'm coming to arrest him. I'm sure I can figure out something to charge him with."

"Dad! Seriously? I'll be home soon. I promise."

"Okay, son. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad. Bye."

Stiles looked back up at Derek's still outstretched hand as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. Derek clearly having heard the entire conversation was eager to get Stiles home before he had to face the wrath of the Sheriff again.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me, Derek." He said matter of factly. "You can't keep avoiding this. We're going to talk. With words, because not all of us can communicate via our eyebrows." Derek scowled as he withdrew his hand.

"I'm not good at--" he waved his hand between them vaguely.

"Not good at what Derek?" Stiles pressed. Derek huffed and sat back down next to Stiles.

"I'm not good at letting people in, okay? I can't--I don't--" he huffed, again frustratedly.

"It's not like you've always been alone, Derek. You don't have to push everybody away. You were close with your family. I know it's not the same, but I'm pack, aren't I? I don't know what you think I'm going to do, Derek. I know you've got issues, but I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. You can trust me."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Stiles. I'm not worried about getting hurt. I don't care what happens to me. I care about what happens to you. It would just be better if I didn't." Stiles frowned.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You care about me, but you don't want to?" He cocked his head at Derek. "I'm still lost."

"I don't want to care about you because look at what happens to all the people I did care about. They're dead, Stiles. I keep screwing everything up and my mistakes tend to end with the people I love getting hurt or dying. I've only just realized how I feel about you and look at what happened." 

"Derek, you can't seriously blame yourself for this." Derek closed his eyes and turned his head away from Stiles. Stiles reached out to gently lay his hand on Derek's thigh. "So what you're just going to pretend like there's nothing between us and hope that your feelings go away eventually?"

"Something like that." Derek muttered. Stiles was starting to feel his temper rising again.

"It doesn't work like that, Derek! Trust me, I've done my share of closing my eyes, turning my head, and hoping the problem disappears. I hate to disappoint you, but I can count the number of times that has worked on one hand. Do you honestly think I'm going to be better off if you just ignore me?"

"Well, so far things haven't been going the greatest for you, so I'm thinking it's worth a shot if it keeps you from being werewolf bait." Stiles scoffed at him.

"You really think that that is all it will take to get me out of the werewolf drama I'm currently neck deep in?" Derek finally cracked his eyes open to stare back at Stiles.

"No, but it's a start." Stiles snorted.

"Derek, I'm in this shit whether you like it or not. If you haven't noticed it's my fault that my best friend is a creature of the night. I'm pretty sure that makes me permanently werewolf adjacent. So the way I see it, you've got two options. You can stick with your current plan of being miserable, while I continue to try and keep Scott from getting himself killed, or you can let me help you guys where you can, oh, I don't know, actually keep an eye on me and maybe even kiss me some more. I'm pretty sure there wasn't enough of us kissing." He stared hopefully back at Derek. Derek looked conflicted. Clearly he wanted to continue being a self-sacrificing, sad, lonely person, but his eyes met Stiles' own and Stiles could practically see his self control breaking.

Stiles didn't wait any longer for an answer. He leaned forward and covered Derek's mouth with his own. It wasn't a spectacular kiss. Their teeth clacked together a bit and Stiles didn't have much experience other than one very awkward middle school game of spin the bottle. Derek didn't seem to mind.

Stiles ran his fingers through Derek's surprisingly soft hair as he explored every inch of his mouth. He made a small sound of indignation when Derek pulled away from the kiss. He sighed and looked at Stiles in a somewhat fond manner.

"Stiles. I don't think this is a good idea, but I'm also aware that you don't know the meaning of no. I'm not saying yes--"

"But you're not saying no," Stiles interrupted with a hopeful tone. 

"I'm saying we should talk about this more later. We've wasted enough time, and if you distract me any longer your dad is going to get out his shotgun."

"Psshh. It's not like he'd be able to kill you with normal bullets." He grinned slyly at Derek's glare. Derek got up, brushing the dirt off his jeans.

"I'd have thought you would want your dad to like the guy you might be dating," he replied with a smirk.

"What? Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Stiles tried to scramble awkwardly to his feet. He teetered dangerously, arms flailing as his shoe caught at one of loose boards at the bottom of the steps. Derek caught him easily in his arms as he pitched forward, helping to support his weight as he walked Stiles to the passenger side of his jeep.

Derek held on to Stiles' hand the entire way home, only letting go when he needed to shift. Thin black tendrils crept up Derek's arm as he took Stiles' pain away every time the road got too rough. Stiles was back to that sleepy, floaty feeling by the time Derek pulled in the driveway. It was amazing how quickly that feeling drained from him at the sight of his dad standing on the front step, arms crossed over his chest, face red. Derek wordlessly helped Stiles out of the jeep and up the driveway to his waiting father.

"Stiles. Melissa will be dropping off your meds after her shift. You'll just have to deal with the pain for now. I have to get to work, so you can get your ass upstairs and keep it there. Hale. I'd appreciate it if you could stick around to make sure he doesn't do anymore wandering."

"Yes, sir." Derek replied trying to meet the Sheriff's eyes.

"And Stiles," he threw over his shoulder as he walked to his cruiser.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"We'll be having that talk tomorrow morning over breakfast. Hale, I expect you to be there, too." He got into his cruiser, slamming the door, and drove away.

"Fuck," Stiles swore softly. "Well, Derek, let's go enjoy the remaining hours of my life." Derek steered Stiles inside. Stiles balked at the foot of the stairs, so Derek led him to the living room sofa instead. He sat down at the end, facing the T.V. and pulled Stiles down in front of him so his back was plastered to Derek's chest. Derek's arms slid under Stiles' t-shirt gently brushing over his warm skin, drawing the pain away with each sweep of his thumb.

"What are you so nervous about talking to your dad about?" Derek whispered into his hair.

“I have no idea what to tell him. He suspects I’ve been lying to him for a long time now. I just don’t know how the hell to explain away what happened.”

“You could try telling him the truth.” Derek suggested. Stiles sat up and twisted around in Derek’s arms to stare at him incredulously.

“The truth? You actually want me to tell my dad the truth?” Stiles asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, I do. He’s your dad, Stiles. I know how much the lying has affected your relationship with him. Besides, it could be good having the Sheriff in the know on this kind of stuff. If things keep up like this; I could use some help hiding the bodies.” Stiles gaped at Derek, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Oh my god. You’re totally serious, aren’t you?” He slumped back wearily against Derek’s chest with a sigh. “He’s not going to believe me though. I mean werewolves. Who would believe that? I can’t imagine how he’ll react. He’s either going to murder me for keeping this from him, or he’s going to try and lock me up like some sort of damsel in distress.” Derek snorted into his hair.

“Hey. Did you forget the part where your father very forcefully suggested that I be in attendance for said conversation? I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to help with the convincing part. Although there’s only so much I can do in regards to his murder attempts.”

“Thanks a lot,” he griped. “I can’t imagine he’ll be too happy when I tell him I’ve got feelings for a certain grumpy alpha wolf though.” Derek narrowed his eyes at the top of Stiles’ head.

“Throwing me under the bus already?” he grumbled. “Fine, here’s the deal. If you can somehow convince your father to be okay with you dating a certain grumpy alpha werewolf then I might just make some dinner reservations for next Friday.” Stiles twisted around so he was facing Derek again, chest pressed to chest.

“Derek Hale, are you asking me out on a date?” He gasped.

“Only if we both make it through tomorrow morning.” Stiles grinned.

“Okay, but you’re paying,” he mumbled as he pressed his face into the warm curve of Derek’s neck. 

Stiles eventually fell asleep curled up on Derek’s chest while Derek lazily flipped through T.V. channels. He felt safer than he had in months, he just wondered how long it would actually last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! That was longer than I thought it was going to be. Now Christine and I are both writing what we have been referring to as Catlady!Derek fics, because Derek with a kitten is the most adorable thing on the planet. You can find her cat fic here: [The Cats Meow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/927377)
> 
> Also you can find me on Tumblr! My personal blog: [Here](http://aseriesofbadlifechoices.tumblr.com/) My Teen Wolf blog: [Here](http://im-the-sourwolf-now.tumblr.com/)


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